Trancient Winds
by silver legacy
Summary: The story of Miroku's parents and his life before Inuyasha.
1. Chapter 1

_**Transient Winds**_

_**By; Kindnessofillusions**_

_**Chapter 1;Hair**_

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The jagged rocks dug deeply into the soles of her feet as she leaned closer to the edge on the stream to examine herself. The differences in her features were astounding. Gripping the handle of the small dagger tighter, she proceeded with the task at hand.

She clutched the last of the silky black strains and pulled them hard, jerking her head with a sharp gasp. The thin blade was sharpened to perfection and at first contact with the black mass of hair the blade tore through easily. Thus, she continued the task with ease.

Once the tresses that had so long been a part of her disconnected from their foundation, she cringed and drew away from the thin face that gawked back at her in those freezing waters.

It looked nothing of the beauty that she once was or that she was forced to be. Her hands began to shake uncontrollable as her grip on the small dagger tightened.

"I make my own destiny." She spoke the words, but she could not truly convey the meaning of them. When was it that she had a destiny, every made a destiny.

To escape was futile to her. She knew that she could not survive a night in wilderness. In her mind, the faint memories of her mother's solemn face, as she trailed her father's footsteps in silent obedience. She served him as a wife would, living discontented and dying the same.

At first sight of her future husband and lord, her stomach turned and she could feel the bile rise in her throat. Not that he was ugly. No, not at all. He was merely the spitting image of her father; even his very disposition was similar and she felt shameful when a frown of understanding and then a smile of approval graced the contorts of his face when he laid eyes on the young woman that she was.

"He will not have me," she lied to herself between clenched teeth and an uncertain heart. She gazed at the dark strains of hair as they danced between her fingers swayed by the midnight breeze.

She knew that her father wanted a son, yet her mother only supplied him with one daughter and no sons to count. For that simple reason she believed father to dislike her and in some instances he'd openly shunned her.

However, with the marriage to this powerful lord, she would take her place in her father's eyes. She would be the linkage connecting her father to power. He even called her his 'gift' to the royal family. Certainly, it would do him good to become of their status.

But the daimyo was spoiled with power, though he held a calm demeanor in her presence. She was not certain about his views of women and she was too timid to ask. She had seen him slap the face of a peasant girl and kiss the cheek of a concubine. Was it all his image? Sure, there were classes and standards. She just did not understand where he drew the line for the distinction of the two.

He was experienced and she had not even had her first kiss, not even he was not allowed to  
touch her before their wedding in a year, when she would reach the age of seventeen. For that she was grateful.

Her trepidation for that life was apparent to her the instant she fell to her knees beside the quietness of the narrow river. Glancing into the still water, she forced a startled gasp to return to her throat.

The sharpened dagger clanged against the rocks below. The sound falling on death ears as elegantly well kept fingers traced the many lengths of hair from her forehead to the back of her neck and back again. Her polished lips froze in a perfect O as if the sight before her was horrid.

In her mind though, it was and for a moment she scared herself, wondering of the woman that stared back at her through the waters, mangled strains of hair compliant on her head. She kneeled closer scrutinizing what was left. It wasn't until her nose touched the translucent surface and the ripples wrinkled the violet eyes staring back at her that she realized how close she was.

She drew back stunned at the realization of what she had just done.

It was… she tried to define her actions before lifting to her feet.

"Invigorating," she whispered aloud eyeing the woman in the waters. Lifting a much less burdensome head to the sky, she smiled at the light decoration of stars not hidden by the low clouds.

The moon is gone tonight, she noted. Thoughts of the lonely, poignant woman that smiled at her on her deathbed, whispering words of love to her only child, sent harrowing tremors down her spine.

She took in a breath of humid winter air as a refreshing breeze combed through the left over hair on her head, raking each strain softly. Tilting her chin upward, straightening her marked resolve, she turned on her heels to return to her father's dwellings.

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**_Words That May Help_**

_**Daimyo- **Literal meaning "Big Name"; Samurai with superior revenues; Lords_

_**Updates**_

_Next week is my best guess. I don't want to give an exact date for fear of a promise that I can't keep. As the story moves on though, I will be more certain._

_**Disclaimer**_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by_ _Rumiko Takahashi_. _Thus, I do own some of the character placed in this story._

_**Take Note**_

_If you would like to ask questions about the story, feel free. I'll answer as many as I can. Oh, and chapters will not necessarily be this short throughout the story. This is only the beginning._

_**Thank You for Reading.**_


	2. Chapter 2

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_**Chapter 2; Bamboo Whips**_

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Every action has a consequence. Even the seasons responded to one another, winter to summer, spring to fall. Tanaka Miyabi had contemplated this time, and again, though she was a most irrational girl, acting before she considered her very own consequence.

I was afraid. That's all, she continued searching for answers to her undisciplined actions by the banks of the river. Now she stood at the base of the mound that split the dense bamboo forest from the confides of her father's home. On the other side of the home, small village houses decorated the grassy hills, all in organized squares separated by thin dirt paths that served as roads for the rice fields on the outskirts of the rural community.

A dismal smile strained her lips as she tugged a mangled strain of hair up top her head, lowering her eyes to her bare feet.

In all truth, she was beautiful and had no knowledge of it. Her eyes glistened a blue-gray that changed with the seasons, sitting aptly above a button like nose and lips that had been stuck between her teeth so long they were turning plush red. Cheekbones raised so high that, the people of her village thought of her as exquisite and she was, but she worried now with the mess she had made of herself.

Her father had so often had words about her olive colored skin because she was not the snowy white that he'd hope for. And that alone made her question what beauty she heard the villagers speak so incessantly of.

She gazed at the white stone building contrasting against the black sky. It was not a lavishly decorated building, a red reeded rooftop and a bamboo porch. However, it was larger than the other homes of her village, and held more interior décor. It was the place she had grown up in and now it was the place she did not want to return to.

A foreboding thought crossed her mind and she wondered if she should return to the banks and collect each strain of hair she had cut, as though they could be replaced some how.

Tears stared to well up in the corners of her eyes and she hated herself for it. She wished she could stand up to her father, tell him what she thought, what she wanted, but that was not her place. Moreover, she could not gather that much courage.

As a lone figure in the night, she stood at the base of the small mound her home only inches away. Chewing on her lip, a habit her father wanted her to quit, she took the first step towards the lone building, crushing the drying grass beneath her feet.

Panic started to well up in the pit of her stomach. A lump formed in her throat so thick that it was becoming suffocating. Her heart pounded tapping a rhythm in her ears. Still it did not change her course and did not change her fear.

She had not yet ascended the thick wooden stairs, before she came face to face with him. He eyed her horrified at her appearance, obviously awaken from his sleep with word of her absents.

Tanaka Ukito was not an incredibly handsome man, but a most stanched man. He was only 5' 9", but to Miyabi, he was massive. He stood before her dressed in his night robe of Japanese silk with beautifully imprinted feathers about the hem. As his features contoured into a smug grimace, it was clear that in some way he was Miyabi's father. He held those same unusual eyes and they sat in the middle of a thick unsympathetic face.

He was war stricken and had only managed to become bitter at his many disappointments. He was not a strong lord as he had so hoped, but he was a nobleman, rich, and respected well enough to be considered with the best.

Indeed, he fancied a son, but his true desire was for power. He valued it above anything and had spent most of his life trying to obtain that power through any means necessary. It was only luck that the daimyo laid eyes upon Miyabi. Nevertheless when approached by the influential figure he did not have to give a second thought to the young man. Any man would be honored to have such a son in-law. He was the man Ukito always wanted to be.

And now as he stared at her, foolishly baring teeth as if an animal, he could see that same disappointment that had plagued him his entire life rising in the back of his mind. What would the Daimyo think when he saw such a woman?

He tightened his grip on the stick of bamboo in his right hand. He had cut it along time ago, when Miyabi was a child of 7 and spoke so abruptly to Lord Yamato. The end sliced into thick strips that hung lazily over his hand. When swung with the right amount of force, it set skin, especially delicate skin on fire. Gazing into her terrified eyes, no compassion came to him. In fact, he felt nothing, but the sheer anger. In her impulsive actions she had not only damaged herself, but she had possibly ruined his chance at power and achievable greatness.

Breaking the unbearable silence between them, Ukito growled underneath his breath, "lye down."

Miyabi reluctantly kneeled, clutching her hand to her chest and lowering her head. Her knees hit the pavement with a low thud that echoed in her mind. By the time she was laid flat on her stomach on the cool cobblestone walk, tears ran down her cheeks in small rivers and she sobbed openly, her vision so blurred that she could not see her father's servants peeking out the heavy wooden door of her home.

Lifting the stick of bamboo, he had so long ago prepared for her, he brought it down hard. Miyabi screamed even before the strips snapped at her back and once they did her once smooth skin began tearing in thin slits of open meat.

"Do you realize what you have done!" he barked at her, though the only thing she heard was the crack of the abrasive whip.

Unacceptable, he'd called her. Even ugly. He roared so loudly that the villagers were starting to appear at the bottom of the mound with sleepy eyes, but close mouths. For no one would dare stop the respected Tanaka Ukito. So they watched, gawked, and turned their heads in shame. A few dismissed the vile act and proceeded back to their homes.

When Ukito concluded his act of chastisement on Miyabi, she laid quite, staring into the bamboo forest that held her hair by its river. Her sobs had turned into silent tears as she pressed her cheek on the cobblestone still cool from the night air.

Her father scowled at the heap of a woman in front of him, a diminutive feeling of commiseration for her pulled at his heart. After all, she had an impulsive father that acted without thought and was too stubborn to take back what he had done. Maybe he was where she got her impetuous ways?

Sadly, Ukito had forced such feelings away for so long that he could not decipher whether it was pity for his daughter or regret for his dissatisfaction in her. He did know one thing, though. She would not be his downfall.

Turning away, he decided that she was sickening to look at. Her beauty had been severely diminished in his eyes. It was not commonly thing for woman to show herself with hair such as her's. It was hacked at, chopped up, and it would takes months, no years for it to return to its former glory as it had reached the rare length, below her knees. Who had ever seen such woman?

And he told her so before he left her lying on the ground.

Her grayish eyes watched the swaying feather of his hem as he departed her. His words had hurt almost as much as the blows he had laid on her back.

Subsequently, Miyabi had enough resolve to lift herself from the ground, noticing the eyes that stared at her through the cracked door and open windows. Her skin paled to a sicken white and in the back of her mind she was sure that behind the sorrow filled eyes there was a sense of satisfaction. To those that knew no better, she had lived a somewhat high-quality life and needed to be reminded of her humanity. To others her father had every right with the distortion she had caused.

How easy it would be too simply march in to tell her father what she felt and then disappear into the bamboo forest?

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. Not today, she told herself, dragging her maimed legs up wooded steps towards the already open door. Today, I am afraid.

_**--(((())))--**_

The room is to quiet, Miyabi decide shifting her weight to rise from the mat she rested upon. The reverberation of her very breath could be heard in her ears and she could not want for the morning when servants would busy the quiet halls outside her door.

Careful to avoid the irritated skin about her back, she lifted to her knees staring at the rice doors leading to the courtyard behind the home. The white panels letting in a vague glimpse of moonlight. Absentmindedly, she began tugging on the strains of hair left on her head. Her father had immediately demanded that she get it cut in a respectable style, after her wounds were treated. Still it did not come below her ears.

When she saw her image her small mirror, she laughed out of sight of her father. It reminded her of a bowl about her face. Reluctant to say it, she was quite fond of it.

She felt no resentment towards her father and had slowly come to blame herself for stepping foot out of her room that night. The overwhelming feeling of guilt leaving her with a tight knot in her stomach.

"Sssh."

Miyabi froze at the sound. Where they talking to her? Was someone watching her?

A small unorthodox giggle followed and she knew better.

Glancing around her room as if the answers were written on the dark wood of the walls, her eyes stopped on the door to the courtyard, just then noticing the shadows dancing behind the white panels of paper.

Curiosity had always been her friend and she listened to its every word. So, when it asked her to discover, she padded over the hard wood floors of her small room on hands and knees, pulling at the skin of her back, but refusing to stop her pursuit. Even as a pained hiss came from her lips.

Anticipation shot through her once she finally stopped and touched the brim of the sliding doors. Holding her breath, she applied just enough pressure for the door to inch its way open. Slowly, and steadily, she stole a glance into the open night.

The lake frogs crocked loudly in the distance and the morning fog was starting to form just above the grass, but none of that concerned Miyabi as her eyes surveyed the area; pass the small pond and over the dying grass, over every candle lantern and pass the stone path. Her sights stopped once she found what she was looking for. Behind the brush, in the mist of her mother's old garden of Nadeshiko, she could make out clumsy movements.

Another giggle.

Mumbles from a rather raspy voice sounded in her ears, though she could not make out the words and she knew without a doubt what was happening, but who? Like a inquisitive child, she stuck her head out a little further in hopes of making out the next set of whispers that flowed through the air.

"Bouji…"

More giggles.

Miyabi's ears perked up, able to make out that one word. She quickly covered her mouth to conceal any words that might escape.

Whoever was so bold as to perform such an act so close to public view was outlandish, not to mention a fool. But, oh the fury on her father's face if he were to find out…

Did they have no mind of the patrol that went on during the night? Essentially, one of her father's few samurai stood in clear view of the area in which the late night romp was taking place.

But it seemed that did not matter to the two or they had no noticed of the two armored figures, as they approached the brush. Obviously, the woman's giggles were far louder than she meant for them to be because when the guard called out to them she covered her mouth lifting to a sitting position where Miyabi got a practical view of her face, and breast.

Itsuka, Miyabi drew back in surprise.

Itsuka served her father as one of his best. She had grown up with Miyabi and they often played together behind close doors. And now, she hid behind the bushes like a common whore.

Itsuka's round face grimaced when she realized that it was she who the guards where calling to. Her hair was matted and sticking to the paling skin on her forehead. Beside her, a rather chubby man fumbled finding what little clothes he could.

To her disappointment, Miyabi was unable to get a clear view of what he looked like in the shadows.

The man continued to approach completely clad with a sword clanging against his side, stopping once in observable view of the two.

With sudden vigor, her companion leaped from his place, immediately on his feet, in his hand a wooden staff. His bald head smooth and cleanly shaven, his face plump and just as round as Itsuka's. Eye dark and slanted upward in an almost permanent smile. In a nervous jester, he dusted off the black kimono he wore with a brown piece of cloth.

He's a… Miyabi blinked once to make sure she saw correctly.

"Monk?" the surprise was evident in the samurai's tone. "What type of fool-hearted act is this?" He took a step closer, but smart enough to keep his distance.

"I am glad you showed, my dear warrior," his voice came out muffled and monotonous, a complete change from the excited whispers Miyabi had heard only seconds earlier. Lifting his eyes to meet the samurai, he carefully tamed his look to appear like that of a holy being. "She was a possessed woman."

Itsuka's mouth formed the perfect O shape as she digested what the monk had just said. "What?" she nearly choked on her words.

Straightening his stance, he continued to explain himself. "I was merely exercising the demons from this woman." He lowered his head in a most humble bow, the top shining like glass in the candle lit courtyard.

"I have no demons in me!" Itsuka retorted back at the now modest man, unashamed of her bare breast. She narrowed her eyes, pinning the monk with a brutal stare as if daring him to say more.

"You have been released from their grasp," his words flowed smooth like the sap from a tree. Fuzzy brows lifting causing three thin wrinkles of skin about his forehead. "That would account for why she is bare breasted in the presence of a monk."

The samurai stared for a moment, eyes switching back and forth from Itsuka to the astute monk. His mouth frowning in confusion, not knowing what to believe. Bewildered, he scratched his head as it began to ache.

"She would have no memory of it. It had taken control of her would it not have taken her memory as well. She even ripped my Kesa," he gave a congenial smile, lifting the brown fabric that Miyabi had seen him dust the soil from his robe with. He extended it out just enough for the samurai to see and believe.

Miyabi covered her mouth to keep from laughing at the look on young Itsuka's face as she realized that the warrior was drawing his conclusion. The frown between his brow eased away as he returned the monks smile.

Tugging on his immaculately placed samurai vest, the warrior asked, "What is your name monk?"

"They call me Mushin," he responded taking another humble bow before him.

"And I am Chikao," he said nodding in response. With a rather crude manner, he eyed Itsuka and glowered at her almost naked form. "Put some clothes on woman and return to your room. You should thank the humble monk for his kindness."

Itsuka's face was bright scarlet, though Miyabi could not decide if it was shame or anger. "He is a lying monk," she protested twisting her body, jerking at the kimono fabric around her waist.

"Of all the-" she began mumbling exclamation that would make the most vial man blush.

Chikao glanced back at the monk with a more than baffled look, and questioned, "is she still possessed?"

"No, young Chikao. I am good at my work I assure you that," From the monks throat a most joyous sound emerged and his face lit up unlike any that she had seen. His smile stretched from ear to ear and dark eyes shined. His jolly laugh reverberated like music to Miyabi's ears as she watched on. His whole body shook underneath his black covering and instantly she decided that she rather liked the cunning Mushin, even though he was caught in a most compromising position.

"But she curses to the high heavens, she does?" he questioned staring at Itsuka's moving mouth as though she spit the very plague of death. "It is as if she has no mind of us," his eyes returning to the monk.

Mushin contemplated only a moment, maintaining his tranquil demeanor "Well, you must understand, she does not remember and does not understand," he enlightened the young man. In a gesture of true friendship, he draped his arm around the young man's shoulders and proceeded to lead him away from the still bare chested Itsuka.

And she watched them go, still jerking her clothes around her form.

Miyabi was still in wide-eyed shock, inches from bursting into terrible laughter at the dumbfounded look that covered Itsuka's face. She had never known that side of her friend, nor had she ever seen her bare breast.

Where had all that come from? Miyabi thought ashamed of her own. She was not that voluptuous of a woman though she had developed quiet nicely over the years.

It was not until Itsuka's eyes met her's that she realized how hard she had been staring. "My lady," she gasped pulling her clothes completely over her exposed chest for the first time since the incident began. "What are you doing up so late?" She flushed turning from red to pale white.

Miyabi could tell that she was more than ill at ease showing herself like that, but she merely smiled. "Watching your performance, Itsuka," she responded her smile turning into a grin.

Itsuka lifted herself to her feet, scurrying to Miyabi's side with a pleading look on her face. "My lady, you won't tell the lord, will you?"

Miyabi eyed her friend and could no longer hold back. An idyllic laughter escaped her and she had to cover her mouth to lessen the noise.

A listless smile crossed Itsuka's lips as she watched her lady. She had been one of those who peeked out the doors earlier that night to watch the appalling treatment her father placed on her.

It was strange to see such blissful laughter pour from her after her tearful night, but enjoyable all the same. Besides, Itsuka liked the short hair cut on Miyabi.

Keeping her thoughts concealed, Itsuka allowed a true grin of her own and waited for Miyabi to speak again.

"Never," she responded breathless. She gripped her ribs forcing in what little air she could afford. "I could not dare."

Itsuka gave a sigh of relief believing Miyabi to be true to her words.

With a sudden sparkle in her eye, she turned to her friend. Her inquisitive look filling Itsuka with a deep seeded apprehension. She knew her well, and Miyabi had a knack for asking uncanny questions. Itsuka did not blame Miyabi. She had not been exposed to much in life. And maybe it was all for the better.

"Can you answer something for me, please Itsuka?" Miyabi whispered expectedly, gaining a shamed air about herself.

"Yes," Itsuka raised a brow at the thought.

The lady hunched her shoulders and lowered her head. Her cheeks pinking gently.

"Go ahead," Itsuka encouraged. The look on Miyabi's face drawing sheer interest from her. She shifted her position settling in beside the modest maiden and waited.

"How…" she started searching for the right words. "What…" she sighed gathering herself.

Spit out Miyabi, she told herself glancing at her friends raised brow and smiling face. "How is it?"

"It?" Itsuka questioned returning Miyabi's stare millions of conclusions racing through her head of what Miyabi could possibly be thinking of. "It…" her voice trailed off as sudden realization dawned on her and now it was her time to laugh.

"Don't laugh," Miyabi protested with a puckered brow discerning the curve in her friends's lips.

Itsuka let out a light chuckle, before running a hand through the sweat soaked tangles in her hair. "Well," she smirked. Unlike her lady, Itsuka had become rather promiscuous girl and enjoyed the simple-minded pleasures life had to offer.

Cringing as she jerked out one of the tangles from her waist length locks, she broke into a fully awkward smile that stunned Miyabi. "Well, won't you find out."

At that Miyabi redden to a ripe tomato. She would, wouldn't she?

The realization brought on that familiar feeling of dread turned her stomach and she openly cringed unbeknownst to Itsuka.

"At least it seems as though he would be quiet good at such a thing," a slow unorthodox gleam filled her eye and Miyabi if she had known any better should have taken caution. Secretly Itsuka could only wonder what it would be like to be with a lord such as that. To her, he was strong, handsome, valiant, and at the peak of perfection in his life.

As she look at her friend now, Itsuka had to wonder why he would choose such an ignorant young child like Miyabi or at least that was what Itsuka thought of her friend. She had no desire to be with him, it was obvious to her. But maybe that ignorance was what he liked about her. In the recesses on her mind, Itsuka had begun to regret her licentious behavior, considering maybe becoming more of the reprehensible character that Miyabi was.

The thought brought on a laugh, gaining a perplexed look from the said ignorant girl.

"What is so funny?" Miyabi pouted folding her arms across her chest at Itsuka's sudden outburst. Rather insulted she asked again with more vigor, "What is so funny, Itsuka?"

"I guess it is all as well," she sighed concluding her laughter, ignoring Miyabi's question. She refused to believe she was jealous of Miyabi. Yet she had been for years.

Standing to her feet, she dusted imaginary dust from her red kimono and shifted her breast making sure to keep her prefect voluptuous form perked and aware. Her inadequacy to Miyabi, feeling her with a want for attention and she knew just where to get it.

"Where are you going?" Miyabi asked oblivious to her friends feelings, but more than aware that she was not going to the servant quarters.

"To get Mushin, where else?" A sigh of irritation escaped her and she immediately regretted it, knowing that Miyabi still had the power to punish if she wished, though she never did and probably never would.

"Why?" Miyabi questioned. After such treatment from a man, she could not possible understand running back to him.

"He is a good lay," Itsuka responded staring in to distance, not wanting to see the clear confusion on Miyabi's face. She was easily becoming agitated by the girl's questions.

Taken back by her friend's reply, she looked stunned and a little disturbed by her upset.

"Would you like to come?" Itsuka redeemed herself and regretted it more than that disgraceful sigh she had given.

Miyabi's eyes lit with excitement and she felt sorry for her. Maybe she would never know how Itsuka really felt or maybe she just chose to live unknowingly. Which ever it may be, Miyabi seemed contented in her way and Itsuka would never ask.

Lifting from her spot between the sliding doors, she tugged at her watarie hanten and smiled. Reminiscences of childhood filled her head once Itsuka took her hand and began to pull her down through the courtyard towards where the monk and samurai were headed.

In truth, Itsuka smiled to herself. In her to thoughts of childhood filled her with vivid memories and she could see Miyabi's mother in her garden that she had earlier defiled with the monk and she wonder that if maybe she was watching on the other side. Did she feel anything?

She sighed out loud pulling Miyabi along the dirt path, feet exposed and dirty.

"Sssh," she touched her lips ordering young Miyabi to silence as they neared the edge of the courtyard. Itsuka peeked around the bamboo wall of the building, Miyabi under her chin making sure to get a good view.

"Okay," Itsuka gave a breath of relief realizing that no one was there. She tightened her grip on Miyabi's hand, so tight that it was starting to ache, but she said nothing.

Sliding around the corner of the bamboo wall, Miyabi could see the remnants of a bright light coming from the next corner, which led to the entrance doors. Itsuka flattened herself against the wall in front of Miyabi, breathless and anxious, though Miyabi was excited by the thrill of the hunt.

Itsuka shook her head at her friend and crept a little further with her back so stiff it hurt. Miyabi shifted her weight onto her right foot and stepping on the tips of her toes, smiling inward at the thought of this devious character.

As the girls neared the corner, Miyabi could hear her father's voice, impatience, but tolerant. They reached the edge with no incident. Both hearts pounded in one single rhythm that only speed up when Miyabi decided to peek around the corner.

Her eyes immediately drawn to those dark eyes of the monk's as he smiled, deep in conversation with father. Each man seemed unaware of the two girls.

Both men stood posed in the very spot Miyabi had laid that night. Two soldiers decorated their right sides. She could tell by the satisfied look on her father's face that he was given the reasonable amount of praise from the monk.

She hushed and focused herself on the two men so much so that she forgot about Itsuka as she loomed above her head.

"You are well trained monk," the tedious Ukito complimented.

Once again that ebullient laugh filled her ears.

Straining her neck a little further than her sound judgment advised, she scrutinized the different character as he continued the meaningless conversation and she hung on their every word. He had traveled with his comrade through the furthest corners of Japan in search of a most atrocious demon. They had become well known in their travels and had stopped along the way to help when needed. Yet they were tired in traveling and looked for a place to bed down for the night or more.

"However-"

Miyabi's face brightened at the word.

"It seems as though my comrade has ran into a bit of trouble along the way involving the newly spread Christian religious leaders," he folded his arms over his chest closing his eyes for a more calm demeanor and continued. "He has been placed in the city's prison beneath the palace there."

"It would seem this new religion is a bother to you," her father nodded rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe the Christians pose more of a threat than anticipated." With a narrow squint in his eye, he quizzed Mushin, "What will you have me do about that?"

"If I may be so bold as to ask your assistance in this matter for his release." Once again, Miyabi saw him bow. For needed persuasion, he added, "there is no telling what that demon girl would have done."

A smirk crossed Miyabi's face as the girl in question gave an exasperated huff and slung her body against the wall out of sight of the men.

"Sssh," Miyabi hissed at her as she noticed the perplexed look her father had taken.

"I guess you have done a good deed here tonight," he commented of the Mushin, poring over his form sizing the pudgy man up from his black robe to his dusty sandals. Considering the small offer, for it would be nothing for Ukito to ask the release of a prisoner if he deemed worthy.

"This is all I ask of you. For he did nothing wrong. Only spoke the truth of Buddha." Mushin continued hoping to convince Ukito eventually.

With a stirring brow, he answered the monk in a low monotonous voice. "Fine monk for your deed tonight alone, I will allow for this."

"Arigatou gozaimasu," he lowered his bow in a show of appreciation of his deed.

"Now show him to a guest room for the night." Ukito turned away from Mushin catching sight of the round headed mistress with her head poking out from the side of the building. "Itsuka," he called just before she could disappear from his sight. "I would hope that you have given the monk a considerately decent show of gratitude."

Itsuka stepped out from her hiding place and Miyabi's heart stopped, falling on a downward spiral to her feet. She was not sure if she was breathing nor did she care. Her back stayed glued to the bamboo wall and the sudden excitement she had felt at the beginning of their adventure had turn into pure trepidation.

If Ukito had known that she was there, he did not show interest. Gaining a boisterous air about himself, he continued his route into his home and laughed within himself. He loved his authority even if it was only mere, he had importance.

"Do not bother me with anything else for the night," he called back to his soldiers feeling a bit tired from the night's events. "I must rest till morning. We leave at dawn."

**_Words That May Help_**

**_Miyabi-_** _refinementelegance  
_

_**Nadeshiko- **an autumn blooming flower in Japan._

**_Bouji-_** _sexsexual intercourselovemaking_

_**Kesa-** (Buddhist priest's) stole (the purple cloth Miroku wears over his robe.)_

_**Mushin- **innocent_

_**watarie hanten- **a bed jacket worn over a kimono._

_**Updates**_

_Three weeks estimate, maybe a little earlier, but no later._

_**Disclaimer**_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by_ _Rumiko Takahashi_. _Thus, I do own some of the characters placed in this story._

_**Take Note**_

_Sorry, so late, but it's a long story about a lost disk and broken computer._

_**Thank You for Reading.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Prisoner **_

_**--(((())))—**_

Truthfully, Mushin had only heard whispers about Christianity. He knew nothing of its true meaning, not as he knew Buddha. Nor had he met any one who could explain the religion in simple terminology. So a threat, it was not, but it sounded so good pouring from his lips that he only mused himself in front of Tanaka that night. Nevertheless, he said a quick prayer in the morning to Buddha in favor of forgiveness for the lie he told on an unknown creed. Once he felt justified, he rolled over on his sleeping mat and heaved his bulky body closer to Itsuka, waking her. With miraculous precision, she scurried out of the room before Tanaka's servants came to wake him for the excursion.

He had to admire her cunning ways. Only she could be so bold as to sneak into his room after the palace walls had fallen quite for the night, a knowing smirk on her face and pleasant things on her mind. They rolled around on the mat for what felt like hours engulfed in each other, before they had fallen asleep.

Mushin smiled inspite of himself. It was an odd thing for a man such as he to be in love. He never dreamed of it, never longed for it, though it fell into his lap. At the very least he felt as though he had found something special in Istuka, something rare.

Her smile, maybe. He did not know.

They had met when mere children when Mushin's own father had taken him through Tanaka's lands for a visit to the city. He had not paid much attention to her then and only remembered by her rounded face. On the contrary to now, once he had laid eyes on the newly improved woman, she was in a sense something that he desired. He could see himself with her.

Giving up the priesthood his father had so forced him into, to be with Istuka. He could take her out of this servitude to Tanaka and in the back of his mind he planned to.

_But first things first_, he thought rising from the mat for the days activities.

The morning winds were shifting bringing in a foreboding breeze from the east. Even the sky seemed tainted with thick graying clouds, layered like the fabric that Tanaka Ukito had draped himself in for the day's trip. A traditional dobuku made of imported cloth from the continent.

Mushin would have been jealous if he hadn't found the fabric to be rather bulky and itchy.

If everything were to fall into place such as that morning, gaining his friend's freedom would be as easy as the after burn from good sake, which he could use right about now. Dealing with Tanaka Ukito was nerve racking, considering he was not that fond of such a man, but his resources were useful. His friend was going to owe him.

Owe indeed, Mushin thought gripping his staff so hard that he wondered if it would break apart in his hand. He gazed at the steed in front of him as they pulled the overly heavy carriage over the rough tureen closer and closer to the sound of the bustling town just beyond the open bamboo forest.

Tanaka sat at his side, head proudly in the air, a dignified manner about him. He had his hair lifted high on his head in a knot as a noble had come to wear in the recent years. He did look like a noble or at least he looked important.

The driver of the carriage jerked the reins bring the horses to a slow steady pace as they reach the clearing. The four samurai escort halted beside them. Their own to horses stout and obedient, staring out towards the village.

So unnecessary, Mushin thought, glancing from samurai to samurai. He would have purposed them going on foot if it had not been for Tanaka's insistence that the tureen was rough and would be traveled quicker if they were to travel by horse. He pouts like a baby; Mushin had decided when he boarded the wooden vehicle, trying to hide the frown on his lips.

Ukito remained silent for the entire trip holding his head high as if expecting someone of importance to pass through that empty forest.

Even the demons do not hassle with this place; Mushin scowled at the upcoming village. The top of its palace shown in the horizon surrounded by the silhouette of a small city against the gray clouds.

"My lord, we have arrived," announced the gangly man tightening his grip on the reins having no real expression in his voice, nor on his face.

"Very good, Nao," Ukito responded shifting his weight beside Mushin. "Stay the carriage outside that city, we shall enter on foot."

_**--(((())))—**_

The outside world was full of obscurity compared to these four walls. Nothing else mattered and it seemed as if time itself had stopped, but that was ridiculous. Time stops for no man and no man can stop for time.

Tenrai was just jaded, and he knew it. The dimness of the cool cell was driving him crazy. He need open winds, and wide spaces. He never thought that a man could receive to much solitude, but after four days in this dreary den, he considering renouncing his priesthood and joining the simple life. At least that way he could be put with the other prisoners in the warmer cells.

That's unwise, he considered. His family had been in the priesthood for years and he would carry out that lineage if it killed him or until he found the right woman or women. Why restrict himself? He loved to indulge in the simple pleasures of life and women were one of many. The curve of a waist, the simple whispers from plush lips. The powdered cream skin, lined eyes, and the swish of a pulp round…

"Guard!" he called out his thoughts becoming unruly in those small walls. "Guard!" He shifted in the dark, his garments twisting around his body most uncomfortably.

Maybe, if he could see out that would be better? It would at least let him know that he was alive, along with the small dish of rice that was slid under the door three times a day.

_What a nasty, distasteful ration._ Tenrai turned up his nose each time he ate, only taking a few bites and then tossing it into the far corner of the cell watching the rats gather. Afterward, his nose would turn up further on his face as the scorched watery food was devoured by the little critters.

"Guard!" he called again sure that he was being ignored. "Guard!" He continued calling out to the man he knew stood outside his door. After a while he didn't know if he really wanted anyone or just wanted to hear his own voice. Sitting up on the cool floor, he folded his legs in front of him and leaned his back against the wall and continued to call.

The heavy wooden door of the entrapment shifted giving off a piecing noise, the sound of old metal scarping more metal. A thin wooded slit in the top of the door only meant for eyes to view into the cell, slid open with unnecessary force for such a small door.

"What?!" the irritation in the man voice was obvious, seeping through the cracks in the wood. With plans of intimidation, he grunted a little at the monk.

Placing on the disguise of pure innocence, Tenrai cocked his head to the side. Taking in a deep breath of relief, he asked, "are there no women prisoners in this entrapment?"

"You should be more concerned with yourself," he grunted with malice in his voice. He had become annoyed with the monk's consistent questions. Ever few minutes he spent outside the small cell, another bothersome drivel of a question he'd have to answer. So without another word, the small door slammed shut and once again the metals clanged against one another.

"I am," Tenrai mumbled. It was not a question to be ignored, he felt. He really wanted to know. It would make the days go faster.

Sighing, he watched the squirming figures in the corner breaking off little pieces of the burnt rice and stuffing it between two front teeth.

"At least you have something," he sighed falling lazily to his side, lying down once again to nap. Before he could close his eyes, he heard the creak of the old wooden lock lift from its place. With a raised brow, he lifted back to his sitting position before the heavy door swung open.

A stubby man in an oversized kosode appeared before him. Eyes graying from age, Tenrai could tell that in a month or so the man would be blind. "You are free to go monk," he stated in a rather husky voice, dry from years of use.

"W-" Tenrai started, but thought better of it. Never question a good thing. So he simply smiled at the old man and nodded a pleasant goodbye to his roommates who continue munching appreciatively on the nasty rice. He lifted from his place brushing as much dust as he could from his black kosode. Making his way towards the open door, he could help the grin that surface when he came face to face with the guard who he had aggravated so. He was nothing that Tenrai expected as he only saw the man's dark eyes through the door. Small, shorter than Tenrai, but healthy all the same.

Shaking his head, he turned away from the man, who decided he was not worth the attention.

One he stepped into the candle lit halls, he found himself covering his eyes. The light was so new to him in those four days. Never did he want to see another jail, unless it included women, just one for pity sake.

He followed behind the man solemnly as he walked the narrow corridor. The walls lined with the same wooden door that had once separated Tenrai from the outside, behind each a new prisoner waited for release or death. Either way that was not his concern at the moment. He was in a hurry to run from that place and never look back, to celebrate his immaculate release.

The old man could not walk fast enough for the eager young man. For once he saw the light leading out into the day, he hurried his pace nearly running the old man over in his wake.

Shielding his eyes once again, he raced out, robe covered with filth from the cell room floors. The dungeon itself was only linked to the outside of the palace. The lord did not wish to soil his floors with the dirt of such people. Tenrai considered it all the better as he stomped his foot shaking off grains of brown rice that clung to his robe.

Didn't know that was there, he smiled at the small burnt crumbs. Shaking his robe as stepped into the light of day, he noticed the well-dressed noble that stood to greet him.

"So you are the man, who spoke his word to the Christians," he greeted with a smudged look. He was upright and stood tall as though he owned the world. Tenrai was sure that his release had something to do with this man.

He opened his mouth to thank him when the noble's words struck him and he raised a brow. What are Christians? And what words did he have to say to them?

"Yes, yes," the raspy voice behind him spoke up before a word could be uttered from Tenrai's mouth. "He is that man." Quickly thinking he stepped in between the two men forcefully establishing his claim. "This is Tenrai. He is master of the wind you know."

Tenrai flinched, so small that it was unnoticed by his companions. He hated that reference, but Mushin was insistent. He said it gave fear where fear was needed and added curiosity when necessary. Still it bothered Tenrai more than Mushin knew or pretended to know.

He bald his right hand into a tight fist and swallowed the ache that had begun to form in the pit of his stomach. It was a reason Mushin would speak those words. His smile was tight, but as his flinch, unnoticeable.

"So he is," the noble commented. His face held a stringent look; expectant of good manners from Tenrai after all it was his word that had been accepted in the palace walls.

"This is Lord Tanaka. A noble from the North Providence," Mushin continued introductions.

As anticipated, Tenrai took a graceful bow in gratitude. "Hajimemashite. It is my guess that you are the reason for my release today and for that I am grateful."

"Well, Monk Tenrai, it is a returned favor for your companion Mushin." Ukito replied no expression on his face and in his mind he felt that a noble should never show such primal affection to the lower class. Only problem was that to him most were in the lower class compared to who he wanted to be.

"Well, thanks to you Mushin," Tenrai redirected his bow towards his older friend just then taking notice of the well trimmed greenery below his feet. A massive difference compared to the gray stone of the cell and he was more than glad of that.

"Oh, young Tenrai, it is my duty to protect a fellow monk," Mushin answered him with a heavy laugh. Placing a friendly hand on his friends shoulders, he whispered, "shall we be on our way then."

Tenrai nodded rising to his full height.

"I advise you to return to my home so that you may clean yourself and be on your way." Ukito interrupted the two friends with a ting of jealously on his voice. Seeing the two men reminded his of his very own brother, whom had died possessed with a demon.

He turned from them before they could notice his attitude and began to lead the way.

Tenrai remained silent as he fell into step behind his savior and his two guards. Mushin settled behind them as they exit the walls of the palace into the streets. There did not seem to be a piece of greenery in sight. It was the same as Tenrai remembered as a child.

He had only been there a few times though the city never seemed to desolate despite the lack of greenery and open space for play. Back then he had been carefree with little worry. His father had once again abandon his mother as he went on his distant journeys. Year after year, he would disappear for a month exactly. Tenrai would count the days in waiting for his father and as planned he would appear at the doorstep, wrap his mother in a warm loving hug and then lift the tiny boy to the sky with little to no effort.

Yes, he would. Tenrai smiled awkwardly to himself. He would lift his hands to the sky and throw his tiny head back with gusto. His lips would part and he would grin showing all thirty-one and a half teeth- he had chipped one when he thought to eat a funny looking rock as a toddler.

He missed that especially now.

But that was a ridiculous way to think. A man of 24 was never to be so absurd. He straightened his head and his grin widened. Whoever said that he anything of the average 24.

Damn it, he cringed slightly. His hand was aching again. A stabbing pain that shot through his arm and down his spine could have brought him to his knees if he was not use to the jarring sting so much so that it was becoming more of an annoying throb.

He was almost afraid to look; though he covered it with a purple tekko trimmed in black. It too, was covered in filth, but Tenrai would not be removing it as he would his clothes once he returned to Ukito's home. His grip tighten involuntarily, the beads of the nenji (prayer beads) digging in his palm. It wrapped around the purple fabric tighter than usual, all 108 bright blue beads dancing in the sunlight in contrast to what it concealed.

"Oi," Mushin nudged Tenrai snapping him back to the dusty roads of the small city. "Is it hurting you?"

Tenrai was taken back. Mushin's perception surprised him, at times. He, like the nenji beads tried to conceal the ache that seemed to surface only when mentioned.

"Only a mere pain," he lied. He did not want to worry the aging Mushin while in the city. After all, the man had enough on his mind.

Still Tenrai's hand throbbed underneath the tekko. He did not know whether to call the cause of such pain a wound or weapon, for is both. A curse and a blessing.

In the back of his mind, his father sat alone before the brass statue of Buddha, draped in beautiful jewels and around it gifts of sacrifices, and precious stones. The older man gripped his right hand holding it out to the Buddha statue; tears streamed down the man's face in desperation. He screamed out splitting his son's eardrums, falling to his knees. His face was red and his eyes were fogged from the tears. If he knew of Tenrai's presence he gave no knowledge of him.

Tenrai had never seen his father in such a pitiful state. It made the young boy sick and that night he laid in bed, crying silently with no understanding of the older man's pain. Even his own mother could not comfort him.

Once through the maze of street, the men loaded up in the traveling carriage and headed for the bamboo forest. Tanaka sat with his head held high while Mushin began a routine of worry staring down at the purple fabric covering Tenrai's right hand.

Tenrai himself shook his head, throwing away those thoughts that had started to crease the skin between his brow and noticed the troubled expression that graced Mushin's face.

"No worries," he smiled overly bearing. "It is okay for now." He had said this lie so many times that it had started to come out as habitual.

Mushin frowned, turning from the man. He was no fool. His seat between Tanaka and Tenrai, becoming vastly uncomfortable.

_**Words That May Help **_

_**Tenrai**-sound of wind; beautiful poetry_

_**Nao- **Mischief_

_**Nenju **carried by Japanese Buddhist monks were typically made of 112 wooden beads_

_**Tekko**- the arm protectors worn by Miroku and Sango are called Tekko. Miroku wraps the Tekko over the Wind Tunnel._

_**Updates**_

_Very spacey, until I get my own computer._

_**Disclaimer**_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by_ _Rumiko Takahashi_. _Thus, I do own some of the characters placed in this story._

_**Take Note**_

_None._

_**Thank You for Reading.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4; **_**_Gusting Winds_**

_**--((()))--**_

Tenrai's biggest fear lay in the palm of his right hand, underneath that damn cloth. Standing before enemies he would jerk back the prayer beads and release a tornado of wind. Each time his opponent would disappear from view in an instant as though some mystical spell had been cast, such as the disappearing acts he had seen the street magicians perform as a young boy.

Master of Wind. When first mentioned he would grind his teeth, but Mushin convinced him that it was all politics and would serve them well in the end. And it had. People were amazed by the gusting winds the small black hole produced and those who knew of him would race to him and ask for a view or peek of this abyss coming from the palm of his hand. Sometime if he was in a good mood he would show them and they would toss coins or warm meal his way.

But Tenrai was tired of performing for treats. He was sure the one that had cursed him with such a fate was somewhere in the world laughing at him, if not planning his downfall. In his memory, those piercing red eyes smiled and gleamed from behind the lids of an elderly man. The elderly soul had left the body years before and now traveled as a vessel for the red eyed demon that called himself Naraku.

No one knew of him. It is as if he was merely a character in Tenrai's imagination, but he was sure that the red eyed demon had been there, smiling in the clearing of the surrounding forest, as his father's own right palm absorbed his body. His gaze fell upon Tenrai with an irritated glint that at the time the young child was ignorant of what it all meant. But with age comes wisdom and Tenrai knew that as long as his bloodline existed, Naraku would be hunted, even he himself had searched for the demon with little luck and that alone brought desperation from young Tenrai.

After each failed attempt, hopeless thoughts of death would form in his mind and he would lift the cursed hand to his face and turn it palm up towards himself. The silly man he was, he would never unwrap the nenji beads from around his tekko because it honestly scared him passed his own belief.

It terrified him how it sucked up everything before him, willingly or unwilling. How it ached every time the small hole increased as if whispering death to him. How his father reached out to his mother sucking her into the small opening in his own palm.

He could never wish this upon a child of his own, but his father had spoken to him of this. Explained to him that it would pass from generation to generation until Naraku was killed. Subsequently, his father would hug him apologize for not being able to bring back the woman he so loved, and disappear himself behind the shadows of his own eyes. His father had withdrawn from him in a sense, but Tenrai knew that he was loved no less than any of the other children in the small shrine village.

His advise to Tenrai was to look towards the future, but how was he to do that when he could not see pass the curse in his hand, sucking up everything in its path. He wondered if maybe all the creatures all the people, his mother. If they all were alive in another plane another world, somewhere happy maybe.

Regardless of all this, Tenrai wanted to keep what little hope he had. He wanted a son, a family, wanted to find what his father had found in his mother. After he had found Naraku, he promised himself.

Over the years, Tenrai had developed skills as a spiritual priest, another trait his father had given him. He had perfected them on his own, heightening his perception. So, it was no surprise that he was the first to spot the dark figure as it emerged out of the brush, their destination on the horizon.

He blinked hard to make sure that he was not just seeing things. For the man only stood four feet tall and walked with a limp as he approached the oncoming carriage.

"Who stands in the road?" Tenrai blurted out interrupting the comfortable silence that the three men had settled into. He tilted his head in the man's direction, now out in the open.

"Huh," Mushin questioned with a raised brow and a squinted eye.

Tenrai would have laughed at the expression had it been any other occasion, but he did notice the mature qualities in his friends look. A slight wrinkle here, a crease there. Mushin had been worrying too much.

"Nao, slow down," Tanaka ordered in an overly booming voice.

Like a common servant, Nao did as he was told never questioning his lord, but the thought of suspicion as he gazed at the old man in the road did not stray far from his mind.

Once again, Tenrai was first to notice the small red droplets that dotted the man's fore head. His eyes were dazed as though he had been staring at the sun all morning.

Tanaka recognized the man as a lonely farmer in the village. He had once thought of him as nearly his equal in skill alone, but Tanaka, never the one to be defeated refused to acknowledge the commoner.

His steps were staggered and his feet dragged the ground. Long limb arms dangled at his side and the hems of his kosode had been ripped. Whatever the man had faced seemed to have gotten the best of him.

"You there," Tanaka greeted as the carriage pulled beside the staggering man.

His glazed brown eyes surveyed them oddly enough, as his body begun to crook over. He was not in a panic nor was he afraid, he was there in existence. Their words past through him, but never connected.

Tenrai cringed at the sight of him. Clearly the man had an atrocious life, but his face as stoic as it was held a sense of pain and agony that Tenrai could not stand to gaze upon. So he turned his head lifting it towards the village in the clearing finding nothing particularly interesting, but finding it more than bearable compared to the sight before him.

Mushin, who had been staring at the man silently, lifted the material of his kosode and leaped down from the high seat of the carriage. "What is it that troubles you so?" he asked his voice calm and simple as his movements were soft and graceful.

Seemingly the words brought the unanimated man to life and with vigorous force, he leaped for the carriage falling short and landing face first in the dry dirt. "Do not bring that man into this village!" he screamed at the ground eyes tightly closed. "He is evil!"

Lifting a crooked finger towards the man in question, he sprung from his place with the sudden energy of a child. "He will kill us all!"

Tenrai's sights returned back towards the scene, questioning the man's motives. "And who told you this?" He stood gathering his strength as he gazed at the point of the man's finger.

"A man came to me in a dream. A man of red eyes and hair the color of the night. He warned me of you!" With that the man collapsed to the ground, burying his face in the dusty ground. For a moment it was as if the life had left him, he laid so still and unresponsive to Mushin's reaching hand.

"Did he tell you his name?" he asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept a close watch on Tenrai.

His friend lifted to his feet and calmly approached the fallen body before him. His expression was most serene as though the man had not just accused him of being the devil himself. Every the calm soul before the storm, Tenrai glided across the dusty path. Once in front of the pale figure he spoke. "What else did he say? Tell me."

His breath came out in gushing strains as he shot up from the soft mat that he had been provided, cool beads of sweat tingling his skin as they seeped out of his pores, leaving him unnecessarily chilly in the quite room. Bewilderedly, his gaze scanned the room so sure of the possessed man's presence.

A dream Tenrai, a mere, dream and nothing more, he told himself still unable to calm his heaving breaths nor slow the hasty beats of his heart.

Thoughts of earlier that day had been like a plague that night. Time and time again, he whispered reassuring words to himself. "It was not my fault," but he did not know truly if the man's death could have been prevented if he had not come here.

"He warned me of you," his last words. He had died face down, eyes filled with dirt when Tanaka's guards turned him over.

What had happened to the man remained a mystery. The only thing that was apparent was that whatever demon held him in his last moments knew of Naraku and had seen him.

If Tenrai had been more aware, he would have seen the demon leaving the broken body it had come to know, but his mind was to busy gasping the man's words. And as if he had been crazy, for some reason he still waited, wanting an answer.

Using the back of his shaky hand, he wiped away the cool beads of sweat from his forehead. He slowly lifted to his feet, body quivering. That did not matter to him as he forced open the thin rice paper door leading to the lord's courtyard. The night air was cooler than anticipated and it stung against the exposed skin of his chest peeking out from underneath his white yukata. Barefoot, he stepped into the night in search of what, he did not know, but the jumbled mess that his mind was becoming; he really did not care.

_**--((()))--**_

It was the crack of the wood that alerted Miyabi as she was already awake. She had stolen from her father's study again, finding his books to be to her liking. At first she thought her father had perhaps gained a clue that she was the one taking his books, and had come to reprimand her. It was his belief that men should worry about such things and women were for show.

Clumsily, she forced the hard covered book beneath the mat of her bedding, throwing herself over it and closing her eyes, jarring the pointed edge of the book into her side. Nonetheless, she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, content to bear it for the sake of herself.

However after moments of silence in her quarters, curiosity became her friend once again, beckoning her to open her eyes to peek. Almost involuntarily, her right eyes popped open only to stare straight into the moonlit room. The dim light, blanketing the floors in hues of blue. Even though, it was empty, she still stayed wrapped up and cozy in the mat staring out of the cooling rice doors into the open courtyard.

Mind racing after the small excitement gained from simple reading. So much so that she almost missed the heavy shadow that loomed over her room, gliding across the rice doors and continuing on.

Realization that someone was out there made her stomach flutter. The opportunity of adventure riled her nerves and she could not resist the temptation. Blinking away the nagging notion that her father would find her, she lifted to her barefeet, searching for her tatami sandals. Surely, she would at least go with a little dignity.

A glutton for punishment, she slipped on her bed jacket spotting her sandals near the door, that she found herself sliding open. Essentially, she looked like a child peeking from behind close doors, tip-toeing through the yard, following shadows in the night. And she loved ever minute of it.

She smiled to herself noting the wavering shadow fading away through the open field. Compelled, she followed, though the mist covered grasses, careful to keep concealed. When she circled the corner, she saw his figure in the night.

A man. Tall and stalked, he stumbled a bit like a drunk. She watched him tug and pull on his clothes, ripping his yukata from his upper half from his body, exposing himself to the open air.

She drew back startled and a bit uncertain. He reminded her of agony, one that she had yet to experience. Everything in her being told her to turn from him and return to the safety of her bed, but she couldn't. This was something she had never laid eyes on before. Something foreign that she, in the deeper part of her mind, wanted to know.

Besides she had yet to see a bare chested man in public like this. The thought made her giggle to herself, giddy of her predicament.

The night sky sheltered her as she continued to creep through the woods down the same path that she had followed only a few days before to shred her hair. Her fingers running through the short strands at the memory.

Never did it occur to her that a man's perception was as well as Tenrai's. He had known of her presence long before she realized he did, he just did not care enough to turn and tell her to go back. He knew of another, though. One that she was ignorant of, trailing her quietly, watching with a grin.

Tenrai quicken his steps as he entered the forest, sidestepping through thick bamboo branched and soon Miyabi found that she was lost, staring at nothing, but open forest and the darkness further on. She scanned the area, eyes wide and curious.

"He was..." she thought out loud racing to the last spot she had seen the character, hoping to catch him somewhere close.

The sudden grasp around her waist knocked the wind from her as her feet were taken from the ground. Her world spun around for only a moment before she came face to face with such a dire expression that it turned her stomach.

He snarled at her, opening an outsized mouth that looked as though it had been slightly misplaced in accordance with the rest of his features. Eyes that seemed to dark and voided to be real stared at her so close to her own that she could see that they were indeed empty, sunken in deep into its head jarring a nose, overly pointed into her face. He shifted his weight, gliding away from her and she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her. He was excruciatingly tall with a face no bigger than a normal humans.

He bared teeth as green as the noonday grass and as sharp as the blades she had seen her father carry. His skin covered him like tightly pulled silk, as though it was not enough to cover his frame. The same sickly pale complexion that she had been early that day colored him contrasting against the night sky.

It did not occur to her that what held her back had nothing to do with the being in front of her, until she wrapped her hands around the tightly pulled muscle that hugged her waist, securing her tightly against him. Beside her, he stood study, unlike her, whose feet could not touch the ground. He did not look at her though she stared up at him with sheer amazement. She had never seen someone so heroic.

He stood at the ready face still, no fear in his eyes. His hair, she could only see the edges of it around his face dark in the night matching the trim of his brow. The fierceness in his eyes filtered through the darkened pupils matching the open sky above them. He was attractive clearly, face chisel, craved out of stone.

Before she could take in the slightest of breath, he shifted in his standing, throwing her to the ground behind him for protection.

His voice was loud and came from the depths of his throat, when he shouted, "Kazaana!" Throwing his right hand before his body, a string of lovely light blue pray beads tangled in his left hand, which he used to hold his right wrist and study himself. She did not see it coming, though she did feel the gust of wind that whipped through her with all the intensity of a storm. Against the howl of the wind, she closed her eyes, for a moment, taking in the coolness of it next to her skin.

She could hear the monster before them give a piercing howl and her eye shot open at the sound. The poor creature's body jerked forward towards the man small in comparison with the tower before him. Helplessly it reached back for something anything to hold with no luck. Open mouthed she stared watching the huge body before her mangle and bend to the will of the storm. Its form turning into nothing more than a string of pale ribbon floating helplessly to the palm of her savior. In the recesses of her mind she was could hear the harden bone pop and crack against the echo of the bamboo trees.

Tenrai recoiled inside. The pain of the opening in his palm sending waves of panic to his mind. No mattered how many times he had to use the voided winds, he could not ease the distressing notion that his mother was the other side waiting for him, along with the father that had curse him and the generation beyond.

Though, he watched the demon before him with no pity. His heart did not move from the stoic sensation that he'd carried with him all his life.

As quick as the wind appeared, it disappeared, in one quick and precise motion as he wrapped his hand with the sky colored beads trapping the purple cloth beneath them. Then silence, leaving just the two of them in the middle of the shaken forest.

Each figure gaining a little strength with the passing silence between them, unmoving. Miyabi staring up at him in awe and Tenrai staring into the open space where the demon had disappeared before their eyes.

He is very handsome, she noted unaware of the intensity of her own stared. The damp grass staining the material of her garment and though she could feel the cool dampness grace her leg, she was unaffected. Her mind was to preoccupied with the character that had produced the windstorm from the palm of his hand. Was it a trick of the eye, magic, or some sort of demonic power?

Tenrai continued his gazed into the distance to be sure that he had killed the only demon that plagued them. Simple darkness and thick bamboo trees greeted him and the small light in the window of the lord's house shone through as if a beacon in the night. Someone was still awake. Hopefully the commotion in the forest was not the cause.

"Are you okay?" he asked somewhat aloof as he turned to face her.

"Huh?" Miyabi answered still in a remote daze.

Tenrai blinked slowly taking in the young woman and her most unusual hairdo. Considering her awkward stares, Tenrai did not feel terrible back about his, before he broke into a cocky grin. As beautiful of a face she had, it still could not cover up the boyish mess on her head.

But all things considered, she was a woman and a lovely one at that, especially when she grew more hair. Until then what was a man to do. To snag her before would be most befitting bearing in mind that she would one day have men falling at her feet.

Though it was something babyish about her, maybe innocent. Maybe shear innocence. The kind that was held out for the perfect man. She didn't look too much like the party type, whore type, the type that Tenrai at times found to be most appealing. Those where the ones not to shy about what they wanted and not too ashamed to get it.

Over a nice drink of sake, Tenrai's thoughts wondered while wonderment shown in his eyes. "And what do they call you?" He smiled a most winning show of teeth kneeling before her. All things considered she had potential, not to mention even with that awkward hairdo, she was beautiful.

"Mi...Miyabi," she spoke her voice close to a whisper. She was flustered and she could not understand why, until he smiled at her again and spoke.

"Well, Miyabi." The knee of his yukata soaking in the dampness of night grasses, while the breeze warned him of his bare chest. "Shall we get you home?" He stated turning. With a mellow frown he began tugging on the fabric that hung carelessly around his waist, wondering what questions she had in her head about his performance.

She nodded, not removing her saucer like eyes from him though he was more concerned with his yukata. His body was lean, she noticed with muscles that had been trained in some sort of exercise. Through a redden face, she continued to gaze unknowingly at him in complete and utter fascination

"Miyabi-san?" he questioned still fidgeting with the cloth about his waist. Her silence bothered him and he thought that maybe she was in shock from her attack. So once his clothing was in place he lifted his eyes to see her, surprised to find her face quite so red. "Are you sick?" His first thought coming to his mouth instead of his mind.

Ashamed, she dropped her eyes, shaking the pictures of him from her thoughts. "No, I am sorry," the words racing from her mouth in a gush of air.

Tenrai's teeth gleamed in the moonlight when he smiled. He recognized that look. The look of a woman in heat or at least what he thought was heat. Just how young was she, he wondered noticing the unawareness she displayed as she tightened her grip on the material of her kimono.

"How old are you, Miyabi?" he inquired.

After all it was late, in his head he grinned from ear to ear and further on. A man and a young woman in the forest alone. They could keep each other warm. A hero just saved the damsel in distress. Was he not due what was fair?

"Seventeen," she replied with a daze that only a child held.

Seventeen, not to young, but not necessarily mature enough for him either. Oh well, Tenrai shrugged openly, gaining a raised brow from Miyabi. Sex was out of question, but...

Without a word, he offered a friendly hand to help her lift from her from the moist ground and like a lady she took it raising in a most ladylike pose similar to the way Tenrai's had seen many a lady do. Never slack in his observations he took notice of that and other assets as his hand moved quicker than the eye, making Miyabi leap straight into standing position.

She had never been groped before and never thought of it, but the easy movements on her rear was everything out of the ordinary. More so of an instinct than a volunteered action she jerked from his quick enough to land back on her knees on the damp ground. Once she had gathered enough reserve to turn around, she glowered at him with the fierce eye of a mother.

To be honest, upon first sight of her expression, Tenrai was terrified. He saw something in her that bothered him. She reminded him of his own mother and the induced memory was not what he need after his quick grope. He blinked staving off the similarities and looked again, seeing that same little girl that had stared up at him with so much admiration.

A sigh of relief escaped his throat. He could feel the muscles in his back relax and was shock for a moment at his reaction.

Miyabi frowned turning from him vowing to get to her feet on her own, lest another groping from the man, who's heroic image was faltering right in front of her eyes. Before he could say another word she lifted her kimono enough to ease the tread through the dewy ground.

Tenrai stood watching after her. He knew that a woman should never walk the forest alone this time of night, but at the moment he was afraid that she would turn and look at him with those same eyes.

Still, she was a girl and…

Groaning, agitated by his own consciousness as it continued to regard the helpless girl walking the path before him, he watched her trip on nothing particular and felt worst.

"Oi, wait," his told her picking up his feet in a light jog to catch her before she went any further.

She did not turn around and did not stop. The thought of another man laying hands on her...most vital parts was unthinkable, even if she was marrying a man she had nothing for, she still would not violate herself. She had morals, damn it.

"Beg your pardon," he excused himself. "It was a slip of the finger," he lied and if he had the opportunity he would do it again to some other unsuspecting woman. One that would except his proposal. One that was not so immature.

Miyabi stopped at that. It could be the truth that she never considered. She was not for certain after all, but if it happened again she never that it was something more. She straighten herself, standing like that lady she was suppose to be and even though he had a head over her she still lifted her head to look down upon him. "I suppose that is sufficient."

Tenrai stood his ground, a little insulted by her reaction and immediately knew she was some type of status. "Miyabi, ma-"

"It is Lady Miyabi," she corrected turning away from him with a childish pout that was meant to imitate him. It did not.

Spoiled brat, was the first thought that came to his mind, but he was a monk and in good sense she would not last the short way back to the village, not if another demon lurked closed by.

"Lady Miyabi," he wanted to laugh at the child, but only grinned as he gave a polite bow of recognition, not to infuriate her more. "I shall escort you to the nearby village."

Miyabi eyed him a moment taking in his head over her. He almost seemed to tower over her and she did not necessarily like that. She preferred him to be only eye length and yet, she knew he would look strange. With a calculated looked in her eye, she accepted with a slight nod so posed her did not move an inch.

Tenrai turned from her facing the path that they were to take. His steps were slow in line with hers and he wondered if that to was improper from the look that she was giving him. Her brow raised to the middle of her forehead and a question forming on her lips, but not a word.

"What is it?" he decided to ask breaking her glance.

He noticed the sudden nervousness that she failed at hiding. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she asked, "what are you doing out this late?"

In a quick search through his mind, Tenrai spoke the first thing to come. "I merely needed a breath of fresh air." It was the truth.

"Hum." Though it made perfect sense, Miyabi still found herself wanting a better answer and thought to ask for one when he turned to her, a puzzled look on his face.

"What brings you here?" His inquire caught her off guard and she was suddenly ashamed of herself. How was she to tell him that she had been following him.

"Minding my own business," she spoke to quickly and to tense for it to be true. Focusing on the path ahead she refuse to look him in the eye for fear he had picked up on her lie.

"Huh," he smiled once again and Miyabi out of the corner of her eye found it enduring. In return she smiled turning towards him with more of her inspiring questions.

"And why is you hair so long for a monk? Most of them are bald or with very short hair."

Taking in a much needed breath, he was regretful that he had gotten her started. "My hair is fine. I chose to wear it this way," he frowned gripping the tip of his braid that hung down to his mid-back, swinging it across his shoulder. He never thought anything of it, though she did have a point. Even Mushin was bald. Memories of his gleaming scalp in the sun brought a smile to Tenrai's face. "Besides it's rather cold in the winter."

She was definitely unexposed. She probably had not been outside of her village without some type of guard and he doubted that she had seen much.

Continuing their route toward the village, Miyabi's next question was expected and made him most uneasy.

"What is that wind you use back there?"

Tenrai winced, noticed by Miyabi. With clenched fist, he gritted his teeth forcing a state of calmness upon himself.

"I'm sorry," she took back her words. "I did not mean to pry." Nervously Miyabi slowed her steps to stay a good distance away from the man, for her own safety. She knew nothing of his temperament. Who's to say that he was not like her father?

"No, it is all right," Tenrai forced out pasting a bright smile across his lips nothing. He turned to her assuring her that all was okay. "I am sure that any logical person would question such a thing."

As if in answering, a soft breeze whipped through Miyabi's kimono. So relieved by the radiance of his smile, she failed to notice the commotion over neither the hill or the lanterns lighting the thick darkness throughout the forest.

"Miyabi!" The voice came as a surprise making both of them jump out of their skin. It was so bold and direct that it seemed the trees were standing on end.

Miyabi stopped in her tracks before directing her attentions to the owner. She knew before she looked and her heart nearly stopped. He was angry and nothing she could say could make up for her disappearance.

Unlike the young woman, Tenrai laughed in his mind. How foolish for him to be scared by the callings of a human and stand face to face with a monstrous demon without a hint of doubt in his heart. Turning from her, he came face to face with the cold wet nose of a brilliant steed. It let out a loud wet sneeze, showering him with small droplets mucus. A frown of disgust crossed his face as he took a step back dragging his hand over his face wiping away the tiny drops. Resentfully, he eyed his assailant.

Tanaka. Boots, shiny black and cover in a yukata of pure silk. He looked as if he had jumped straight from bed and on to the back of his stallion. His face lifted from the shadow of the lantern that he held in his hand. Uncovering bloodshot eyes and a heavy overworked scowl, he stared at Miyabi in revulsion.

"Father," Miyabi gasped. She could feel the pit of her stomach turning and she had to force down the bile in her throat.

"Lord Tanaka," Tenrai's voice remain as calm as he bowed to the lord, continuing to show his respect, despite the undeniable glower on his face.

However to Tanaka, his daughter stood before him, her kimono mangled and filth in shambles, and then there was this unknown man. His own kimono wrinkled with small tatters around the collar. In his mind Tanaka could picture the passion behind the two young lovers. Miyabi ripping his kimono as she grasp and pulled trying to free him of the confiding clothes and Tenrai tugging on her own as he pushed her into the mud.

How dare he sully Tanaka's only chance at the true fame he wanted? What would the Lord Yamato think if he found his prize inadequate, a slutty whore? Romping in the woods with this perverted monk.

"How dare you?" His words were embittered with hate. It brought tears to Miyabi's eyes, but she refused to let them fall in the public eye. Guiding the brown horse closer to Miyabi, he leaned over just enough to grip the shoulder of her kimono. With a violent edge and a dangerous temper, he entangled his hands his the fabric and lift her so quickly that she had no time to react. Even the pain of the pulling material under her arm did not register as she was to stunned.

Easily, he threw her body across the front saddle of his horse and pressed down with the right hand, turning the horse and him away from the confounded monk.

Tenrai was almost to appalled to speak, but quick thinking and a sharp mind would not allow him to remain quite. "I assure you my lord, my hands did not grace your daughter."

He doubted that. He had heard the rumors of the corrupt ways of monks and now he believed them. Without so much as a glance back at the young man, he spat out, "I want you out of my home."

**_---((()))---_**

_**Disclaimer- **_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi. Thus, I do own some of the character placed in this story._


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5; Humiliation**_

_**---((()))---**_

There was no commotion, no word spoken, expect an offered apology before Lord Tanaka shut the door in Tenrai's face. He gave a long-suffering sigh, staring at the dark wood before him.

Maybe I should at least check on the girl, but was it not her fault? He had considered this even before he had returned from the woods to gather his things. She had, after all, followed him. Though did she deserve that type of treatment for her curiosity?

He did not think so, but at the same time was it truly any of his business. After watching Tanaka tonight, he found that he did not agree with most of his actions as a lord, but he had not said a word. He felt it was not his place.

"What is done is done?" he spoke out loud turning from the door finally, feeling the heavy drawl in his eyes. Narrowing his sights at the downhill stride to the village, he smiled noticing the bright light shining through the window of one of the better looking home.

The village it is, he smiled to himself.

_**---((()))---**_

Tanaka could careless of the monk, he had so gingerly opened his home to, but if he had so much as touched Miyabi he prayed for his death. To ruin something that had been so carefully thought out, so carefully planned was inexcusable and despicable.

It was that contemplation that fueled Tanaka as he stormed through the corridors, shadows of death looming in his eyes. Angry seeped through his skin so thick that the few servants in the same corridors pressed themselves against the bamboo walls, wishing to merge with the material in hopes of not being seen. Anyone who was awake that night knew where he was headed, but no one knew the extent of his rage. What he would do or how far he would go.

His footsteps pounded the floors coming to a halt in front of Miyabi's door. She heard him before he pushed the screen door back, so hard that the wood splintered. Her wait for him had been excruciating, sitting on the floor, bawling into the palms of her hands.

She knew he was more than upset. She should have never followed the monk, but why punish him for her mistake by allowing him to spend the night in the wideness. A panicked fear slithered up her spine and her heart felt as though it would explode from the frightened sight before her.

He was blinded by his anger and tainted with hate, more of himself than any other. In her at that moment was everything that he wanted and she was close to ruining it all over again. His eyes were red and his body seemed to swell with the fury of a mad man.

"You disobedient child," he started in on her huddled form at his feet. Her eyes wide and frightened as they should be, gazing up at him. "What is it that you think you are accomplishing?" His words were like venom and cut deeper than she would have allowed had she not treasured the man before her.

"I am sorry!" she cried out falling at his feet in forgiveness. Her forehead lying against the cool floorboards as floods of water poured from her eyes. A slow prayer formed on her lips, loud enough for only the most sensitive ear to hear.

He fell silent, fuming. Thoughts running through his head of the young woman in front of him huddle beside the handsome monk, entered his mind once again and he felt the pressure build needing release, until finally he lifted his foot making contact with her shoulder.

She screamed at the pain rolling over onto her back, away from his feet. The agony that she felt did nothing to dull the pain he caused her. Closing her eyes against the sight above her, she couldn't calm her hasty breaths nor ease the fear of what came next if anything.

"Did he lay his hands on you?!" Tanaka screamed circling the crying spectacle. "Did he?!"

"Noooo," she sobbed out. Her words no more than whispers in comparison to his yells. Balling her hands into tight fist against her stomach, she bellowed there in hope that he would just leave her now, like he would usually done.

But tonight was different. Tonight he had caught her with another man. Sneaking around, whoring around, ruining her body. Before Tanaka could catch himself, he leaped upon her.

"If he has touched you, so god, I will kill you." He promised placing his left hand in the between her breast pressing down with unnecessary force, trapping her and cutting her hasty sobs short.

Her slender hands grasped desperately at his stubby fingers until he relented a moment to let in a much needed breath for her burning lungs.

She will not ruin this for me! She cannot... She will not...

Tanaka could feel his own sanity slipping , his mind nothing more than an anger haze of irrational emotion. Though, he had to know, had to make sure that...

What if she had ruined it all? What if she had fallen for the strange monk? What if he had forced her?

Sightless, he traced his hand roughly up her leg, clumsily pulling her clothing aside in anticipation of finding out what he had so desperately tried to prevent. His fingers danced gently over his daughter searching, searching blindly, his hand gracing her most vital parts feeling for the thin skin that convenient her virginity. It was there intact.

God, I'll...I'll...

His thoughts had been so forceful, so crazed that it took some time for it to occur to him that his fingertips were fondling the soft warm skin between her legs. Astonished, he froze there lifting his head to indeed assure that it was his own daughter that he was doing this to.

Suddenly, the room was too large. The wood was too dark, and held to many shadows. The floor was cold beneath his knees and his daughter's tears made perfect little streams down her cheeks.

God, how she looked like her mother.

Her eyes were wide, gawking down at her father. Her mouth opened to the perfect O. It took a moment for her to realize that his touch had sent a wave of shivers up her spine and she was appalled.

Something was transpiring. Something that a father and daughter should never share and they both gazed at each other in silence, questioning what the other thought. Tanaka even had the nerve to blush as he sat there frozen in time feeling her body's moist reaction to his fingers.

Miyabi was not sure what to do next as she stared down at him. She could feel every thread in her body break. Her mind was in a fuzzy haze and her stomach was in knots. She had never felt like this and the man who had done it had frightened her and left her deadly confused.

Without a word, he jerked his hand from her as though she were some dangerous disease. Quick and precise, he slapped her face with the opposite hand, turning her head with a jolt. A wave of relief flooded through him once those condemning eyes of hers were not staring at him.

It was her fault, he decided his fingers shaking with remorse. She had scared him and he merely needed reassurance that she was not as promiscuous as she seemed. It made sense, right?

Miyabi closed her eyes, refusing to open them. She couldn't look into his face. It was sickening. Was power such a magnificent thing? What had she done? What had she been reduced to?

He had touched her and made her feel...

That was not the way it should be. It was sick, twisted, and unexplainable.

"Don't ever let it happen again," his warning sunk deep into her mind and he rose wiping his hand on the cloth of his yukata, scanning his mind for excuses of why her clothes were so mangled. Why her kimono shifted open beneath her waist? Why the skin of her thigh glared out at him accusingly?

She was a whore.

She stared at the darkness behind her own eyelids until the vibrations of her father footsteps shook the floor beside her head as he walked pass her. He had taken his leave of her.

And she stayed there, unable to move, unable to think. She opened her tear stained eyes training them on the wood of the ceiling, her vision hazy. No attempt was made at fixing herself. In that instance she could not gather enough of what happened to truly realize what she needed to do.

How did it all occur?

She had never considered her father crazy, but she was staring to consider herself insane. It made no sense to drive a man to such madness and then derive the fleeting pleasure that she had received.

Blinking repeatedly in a failed attempt to keep her tears from falling, she made her first move, turning to her side, her short strands of hair tickling the side of her face.

Visions of her mother raced through her head. She could hear her cries so vividly that she was sure the woman lay behind her unmoving as she had been and sobbing just the same. Miyabi turned quickly hoping to catch sight of what she hoped, finding nothing. It had all been in her head.

What little comfort she had had been in that woman and she too had cried on the same cold wooden floors, closing her eyes as her father departed leaving her there. And that more than anything scared Miyabi. She had become the mirror image of that woman, so blindly.

Miyabi closed her eyes in a peaceful confusion as she called out to her softly in hopes that some way she would be the only one that heard from the place she rested her head. "Mother."

Then she was sleep.

_**---((()))---**_

Miyabi shifted her weight on the wooden panel, absentmindedly expecting her hair to be beneath her. She had not moved since last night and it took its toll. The dull ache caressed the small of her back as she lifted to glare out of the open door. None of her father's servants dare disturbed her as she fell asleep. Some felt she had needed it and others were too afraid of what the lord would do if he found any of them talking to the girl, and deep down she knew there were those that smiled, laughed, and made fun of her as she laid on the cool floor.

A fresh wind swept through the open door brushing her feet and tickling the exposed thigh her father had left her. Memories of last night flooded her mind and she found herself close to tears.

Had the servants seen? She wondered quickly and clumsily covering herself. Had it all really happened? Her eyes stared down at the wrinkles in her kimono fabric.

Maybe it had not taken place at all, she tried to persuade herself, but the slight sting of her cheek spoke differently.

He had touched her and she was not sure if was her fault or if it was him.

"Lord Yamato has arrived!" The shouts were unexpected and if Miyabi had been herself she would have jumped to attention, but instead she glanced up breaking her thoughts away from her foolish questioning, become conscious of the heaviness of her eye lids.

The padding of footsteps drummed over the floors of the outside corridor. She guessed those steps belong to the small girl, that soon appeared before the open door, her hair floating behind her, like a black canvas. It made Miyabi miss her own hair, especially if what she had just heard was true. The lord had appeared, unannounced, and much unwanted.

The girl stopped at her door and stood with a modest poise, hands before her twisting her fingers together. Her kimono was a plain black one and Miyabi could see that she was not much older than her. They may even have been the same age, but Miyabi had paid her no attention in all her years. When had she come and why did she stare at Miyabi with such admiration?

She bowed low in her presence, her hair draping gracefully over her shoulder. "Lord Yamato has arrived most unexpectedly, my lady," she stated close to a whisper as the nervous twitch in her fingers ended. "Do you wish me to say something to him?"

Narrowing her eyes, Miyabi allowed time to take in what the young girl had just told her.

"My lady?" she questioned lowering her eyes to the kimono that Miyabi wore.

Her stomach turned as she sprung away from the girl, wishing to switch places with this nobody and become some common girl so that she could escape the confusion that was starting to brew in her head.

How was she to face her future husband, knowing that another man had touched her and that man was her...

"Yes," she choked out. "I will make myself presentable." Slowly and carefully, she lifted to her feet. Her body felt like a weight as she glided pass the girl into the halls. They were darker than normal, no candles had been lit and it was nearly empty.

"My lady," the young girl turned to face her. She had watched Miyabi throughout her life and this was odd behavior, bring to mind the lord's anger. She watched her stroll down the hall and something about her, that spark of life, that simple smile that she would offer was gone. She seemed almost like the dead walking.

What had occurred between the future lady and her father that had caused such a reaction?

"Miyabi-san," a familiar voice, being followed by pounding footsteps. They raced towards her from her right side as she reached the ends of the hall. Itsuka face seemed unpleasantly happy and more than bright. "The lord has arrived to take you away."

This was a common joke for Itsuka every since the marriage had been announced. No one knew for certain when the lord would take home his new bride before or after the wedding. With his list of concubines, Miyabi did not know why he would need to take her at all.

Forcing the remnants of a smile, she gazed at Itsuka's round face. She could not quite understand why she was so ecstatic to see her lord and at the moment she did not want to take it into consideration.

Itsuka's smiling face shifted into one with a crease of concern that shadowed Miyabi. "You look as though you have not slept at all," she blurted out. A small part of herself was glad that the lord would see Miyabi at her worst.

"I just need a small bath and I will be fine." She looked away from her in fear that she would read her expressions and so easily find out what haunted her this morning.

"Oh," Itsuka's voice trailed off to a mere whisper as she too watched Miyabi's back.

Wordlessly, she began to walk away without the small hint of a blush as she was use to. She seemed so dazed and heavy as if the world weighted on her shoulders.

Maybe life had finally found her, Itsuka presumed as a soft tranquil smile crossed her lips.

Either way, she determined, she would present herself to the lord no matter what.

_**---((()))---**_

Miyabi had spent more time staring at the water of the small pool than she had bathing or soaking. Her skin felt so dirty and revolting from his touch that when did she stepped into the water she found herself rubbing and scraping until her skin was a beautiful shade of red almost to sensitive to her touch.

It was not until she stepped out of the pool that she realized she had carried nothing to cover with and would have to once again return to the white bedtime kimono that her father had touched her in. Sickened, she lifted it to her body wrapping up in the thin fabric with a vacant in her eyes.

"It did not happened," she chanted to herself. "It did not happen."

_**---((()))---**_

She had unknowingly haunted him. That night he dreamed about her and what he had done. She looked like her mother, smiled like her mother, even spoke like her at times.

Tanaka smiled at the Lord before him, greeting him with the respect of a blood son and Lord Yamato greeted him the same. He was only years younger than Tanaka, and still old enough to be Miyabi's father. He lifted his cup of sake to his lips and sipped it elegantly, as he was use to the finer things of life.

Tanaka shifted his weight. The silence between them was uncomfortable. He had asked of Miyabi and Tanaka had told him the truth. She was becoming most disobedient. She had been caught in the woods with another man and she was punished for it, which would explain the redness of her face.

Yamato only laughed halfheartedly and stated, "she needs true training."

As if Tanaka had not tried to train the girl. It was mere curiosity that she had, her mother had told him such before she died. She had told him that she, at one point in her life had been the same. Her father had taught her different and he should do the same.

'I am only trying to live by your standards,' would remind her and she'd laughed wrapping him in a wary hug.

'Live for yourself,' she would say.

She had been perfect and yet he knew that deep down inside she was disheartened. She spent so much time watching him, loving him that he felt somewhere she had gotten lost and he had taken over. Pushing aside everything, he vowed for power anyway he could get it, with the exception of Miyabi's mother, Nagami. She was not to be compromised, never to be compromised, yet she had died of her own freewill, leaving behind her likeness in this daughter of his.

Nothing had prepared Tanaka to loose his support, his crutch in the end. He was not sure if Miyabi knew the true nature of her mother or if she only saw what she wanted to see, the prefect mother. She hugged her, kissed her, did all the things that he would not, but she hated the reality that she had not been a boy, the one thing that Tanaka wanted most in the world.

The woman stood there most of the time and watched the child as he beat her and punished her for reasons that he could not recall after the beating was over. She never stood up for her and even pretended to be unavailable in her most times of need. She died with a prang of guilt that she had not been the mother that she should have. In so, she wondered if maybe she created a monster in waiting.

But Tanaka never spoke a word of it to Miyabi because he also felt a certain guilt. His mother had loved him with all she had and never turned her back on him when he needed her. She had been everything he could ask for and more. Spoiling him, beyond good reason and maybe that was his problem. She was not so easily controlled.

In actuality, they were neither good parents and he knew it, but she was older now and to be married. Not to mention she carried the likeness of her mother which had started to turn Tanaka's stomach when he looked at her and cause many late night when he thought of her.

"Miyabi-chan," Yamato smiled lifting his eyes towards the door.

In the entranceway, Miyabi stood, decorated in a beautiful silk kimono the color of jasmine. The hems traced with ivy leaves and markings she did not understand. Soft traces of makeup stained her face, a light tanned powder covered the dark circles that had formed underneath her eyes, while black coal trace the fine line of her eyelids. On her lips a hint of color the lightest shade of pink. In the eyes of others she was gorgeous, even without her lengths of hair.

Tanaka's breath was taken back. She was a beautiful image of her mother

He hated her with a vengeance at first sight. His heart raced, dancing to the beat of a drum and he gazed down at his right hand holding the small cup of sake.

He had touched her with that hand and it had been...it had been...

Tanaka did not feel the thin shards of the small goblet neither did he hear the small bells of shattering glass as it crushed between his fingers. He only noticed the daimyo's eyes as they gaze at him, then to the cup, a crease between his brow.

Slow comprehension took place, as Tanaka lowered his glaze to his hand still gripping the glass with the same tension that had forced it apart. The shards dug deeper into his palm and dawdling blood began to pour from the close fist.

"Excuse me," Tanaka gathered from his reverie. "I have a few business matters that demand my attention. I am sure that you would like to talk to Miyabi alone." He lifted from his place, the numbness in his hand wearing away.

"Father, will you be-" Miyabi started to question, her voice soft and withdrawn.

"I am fine," he spoke sharply, stern towards her and saw her flinch. She remembered last night, he thought. "If you would excuse me," he spoke through clenched teeth, stalking pass her gaining a whiff of the lilac oils she had use to bath.

Gods, help me.

Gaining speed once he was released from their inquiring view, he could hear her voice again. Nagami.

'Gain power any way you see fit. I am behind you,' she continued to whisper to him night after night. She would turn to him and lay her hands on his bare chest. With a voice of an angel, she would whisper, 'She is your child to do with as you wish.'

Gods, help me.

_**---((()))---**_

Miyabi watched after her father, a slight flush on her cheeks.

Was he thinking of yesterday? Something that she wanted so desperately to forget. Something that never happened, she repeated her chant in her mind.

"Miyabi-chan," Lord Yamato's voice came in tall and bold. Unbreakable had been used to describe such a man.

He stood a foot taller than Miyabi as he drew to his full length.

Just like the monk, she realized and she once again hated that.

"Your father has spoken to me, Miyabi-chan," he smiled warmly and rose from his place his samurai armor clinging to his well-developed frame. He seemed so perfect, so untouchable. "Let us take a ride shall we? I have brought with me a new steed."

His suggestion caught her off guard. He smiled so sweetly and lovingly, holding his hand out for her. A welcomed change from the torment of her father and so she took him up on that offer, placing her hand in his in that same poised manner that she had used with the monk.

_**---((()))---**_

Lord Oda Yamato was power and in a world were power was everything his name was know throughout the Northern providence. No one dared oppose him, lest his mighty blade strike them down. It was believed that he had allied with a demon for his seeming immortality and at times he was a brute of a man, yet that did nothing to diminish his many followers, nor did it lessen the many women that had vowed their loyalty to him.

He was not a handsome man though he could not be called ugly. His looks were merely average. His eyes dark and narrow, above a ruddy nose, and full lips that could form the thinness line of anger Miyabi had ever seen. Though when pleasantly groomed he could be called handsome. The side of his face had been marked by war, a long gaping scar extended from his ear to the tip of his cheek, another crossed over from his eye to the start of his chin. His hair that he wore in a high tail up top his head extended the length that hers' had once been. If he had been an average man, it would have been a privilege to wed Miyabi.

But he was not average, Miyabi constituted as she hung her legs over the side of the massive beast that Yamato had deemed a horse. It galloped hard, bouncing her back and forth, but the lord had one hand on the reins and one hand wrapped around Miyabi's thin waist gripping the opposing left hand. Every now and then, she would glance down at his hand as it held hers' and realized how much bigger his was than her. She felt like a little girl around him and she guessed that she must have acted like it as well. 'Miyabi-chan.'

Had she not grown any since the last time he saw her? The reference seemed so out of place for a future wife.

"Your hair?" he spoke breaking their silence once her father's home had disappeared on the horizon.

"Oh," she blushed, embarrassed of her actions, yet again. She reached up to run her lilac colored nails nervously through the strains.

"What gave you the idea to cut it?" His question was serious and brought a frown to his lips.

Shifting her sights to the corner of her eye, while gazing at him without turning to face him, she shyly spoke. "I don't know," she lied. She knew why when she stood by that river's edge and she knew now.

Because I did not want to marry you, she thought wrapping her free arm around her stomach. It was starting to act up again.

"Your father explained that you had gone out in the night and hacked it off by the river," he told her as if she did not know for herself what she had done.

His tone had taking on a more shifty expression, one that was not easily read. She turned back measuring their distance away from her home. The building was long gone and she was scared.

With a sudden vigor, his horse galloped harder, gaining speed through the forest. Lord Yamato narrowed his eyes, focusing on the road with a sudden fierce drive. He released her tiny hand and wrapped his arm tightly around her waist gluing her to him.

"My lord?" Her words came out gushed and in a panic. She was not seated properly on the saddle for such a speed. "My Lord, I will fall!" She squealed close to his ear. Her heart pounding with fear as she felt her body began to slip from safety.

"Quite, Miyabi," he growled out, pulling back on the reins of his steed. "Whoa!!!" he directed the beast and it reared back on its hind legs tortured by the bit in its mouth. Giving out a loud neigh, it fell back to the ground calming itself.

Miyabi shifted her position on the saddle, glancing into the face of her future husband as if she could tell what he was thinking. He was tight lipped and did not seemed impressed by her ability to hold her own on the wild ride. "Do you think of yourself as superior, child?"

"Uh," she drew back from his face causing her to slip completely from the saddle. In a heap, she collapse to the ground, her beautiful kimono gathering rough grass stains at the knees.

Purposefully, she did not look up. She did not want to see another man that was to take from her until she could not bear it. Her father was that and now so was he, but she knew that. She knew that when she first laid eyes on him across her father's dinning hall.

"Do you feel as though you are superior?" he reiterated dropping from the tall horse. With a swift motion, he wrapped the reins on the nearest tree. His horse gave a loud sneeze. "You have not answered my question, girl." His tone was not angry more demanding, like one would demand of a servant.

She opened her mouth, however no words were spoken. Nothing was there to come out. How do you answer such a question like that without repercussion?

He was approaching, grass crushing under his feet and Miyabi was once again nothing, but helpless. The closer he got the more her heart pounded. The palms of her hands began to sweat and she could feel her insides turning over.

"Look at me girl," he ordered stopping before her.

She continued to stare at his well-polished boots as they dug into the grass.

"Do you plan to just sit there, Miyabi-chan?" he asked.

Her eyes rose to meet his, most uncertain. She could see her father standing there. His arms folded over his chest gazing down at her with a look of true disappointment of her actions.

Lord Yamato, she thought pulling herself from the desolate contemplation of her father.

"Do you not hear me, girl?" Lord Yamato kneeled before her, gazing into her eyes. Indeed they were blank as if he was not there at all and yet they were frightened and afraid. He did not like that. The void that she carried. If she was to fear him he wanted it in full.

Fear meant understanding.

He wrapped his five fingers tightly around her throat, and lifted her as if she were as light as a feather and to him she was. Her eyes met his and he was not sure if she even felt the pain around her throat and so he squeezed tighter and there it was. Her well-painted lips parted gasping for breath. She cringed, involuntarily grabbing for his fingers, clawing at his skin making sharp bleeding cuts.

He grimaced at that, throwing her back.

Miyabi groaned falling back on her bottom as she grabbed for something to hold on to.

"This is not happening to me," she said out loud, praying to wake up soon. To hear, the morning maids calling for her to dress for breakfast. They would have her kimono pressed laying out for her to wear, but when she lifted her eyes to see the gorgeous kimono fabric blowing in the morning breeze she found him standing there, arms still crossed over her chest as he approached.

He reminded her so much of her father, that it was excruciating to her eyes.

"He tells me of the man you had in the woods last night." He came within reach of her again and this time she jumped to her feet, her tatami sandals rocking underneath her. "Do you have no sense of decency?!" He was yelling now and she could see the veins pop out of his head.

Yes, he did look like a demon, she decide though she had not seen enough in her life to truly know, but she was beginning to wonder. She reached out to grab onto the branch of a small tree so that she could balance on the shaky shoes before he struck again.

"You have not been trained properly," he laughed out loud echoing off the high trees. "This is the only solution to such a problem."

The small strains about her head fell over into her eyes as he rushed over to her. She was sure that she looked a mess in his eyes, but he liked that look on her. The look of terror, of desperation, helplessness.

Pounding his footsteps on the fallen leaves, he closed the distance between them and gripped her shoulders. He lifted her so close to his face that she could feel his hot breath tickle her cheeks. It smelled of the chamomile tea that he sipped at her home.

"I will not have you tainting my name girl," he barked at her leaving droplets of spit in on her nose. He slammed her on her feet and gripped the obi of her kimono. "I will train you properly."

Properly? She questioned. Staring at him, he resembled a mad man.

Is this what a demon possessed man is?

With that she began to spin her obi coming undone, looking like non other than a long ribbon in his hands.

"You will learn from me," he spoke with a vicious hand, grabbing the silk fabrics around her neck yanking and pulling the beautiful material until it tore like paper between his hands.

"No!" the word escape her throat as she realized that he was trying to undress her, leaving her vulnerable to him and any other in the woods. She grabbed at her fabric yanking it from his grasp ripping it more, but leaving enough for her to cover herself. Even the kimono underneath had started to tear under the friction.

Now it was Yamato that drew away. Shocked that the young girl had it in her. He was stronger and more dominant than she so what gave her the right to oppose him and his rule? Had she gone mad?

She could see it. He was lost in what she had done and she knew to gain her escape before he gathered himself. Turning, she threw off the sandals as they were hindering her from her escape. She would find her way home she did not need him. Or maybe she would not, maybe she would just run until she could not run anymore. Either way he would have to catch her first.

She stretched her legs further than she ever could, gaining only a little distance between them.

"Miyabi!" he roared behind her easily closing the gap that she had created.

She did not see him as she crashed to the ground, feeling the heavy weight up top her. With the force that was meant for a man, Yamato turned her to face him as he straddled her. He placed his full weight on her pushing her into the ground.

"You are..." he spoke grabbing for her kimono finding pieces here and there, between her small fist as they fought back furiously. If he had known the girl was such a fighter he would have taken precautions. She was not the first and she would not be last.

Deciding on a better course of action, he went after her hands gripping her wrist slamming them of the ground above her head. "You lost your place, Miyabi," he grunted leaning close to her face.

If she could not fight with her hands she would not give him the satisfaction of doing the same things her father had done.

"Noooooooo!!!" she screamed from the depths of her lungs kicking her feet and turning her head.

He only stared at her, a smirk crossed his face. "Scream if you must. No one is coming for you, Miyabi." Locking her wrist in one of his massive hands, he began to rip and tear away her clothing, until he saw her flesh. A vision underneath her kimono.

He calmed his hasty breaths at the sight of her blushing skin. No, that was not why he had brought her out here. He could wait. With his line of concubines, he would have his pick when he returned. Gazing back to her closed eyes, he saw those crystal lit tears dance down her cheeks.

That had been what he was waiting for. Tears meant defeat. She was breaking down.

He lend close to her ear, pressing her bare skin against the cold metal of the armor he wore. She laid still waiting for him to do something more. With a hushed tone, he smiled pressing his lips to her cheek in a bittersweet kiss. "I win. I always win."

Her eyes shot open staring at the roof of the forest, the intertwining branches that sheltered them. Would he force her to bear everything to him? Right here on the forest floor?

How did I do this? She cried starting those same sobs that she had with her father.

"Return to your home," he told her lifting his weight off of the young girl, the shreds of fabric tangled in his fingers. "I will be waiting. If you do not return..."

He turned his back to her straightening himself, following the trail that they had run.

"I will find you. Be it alone or with my men and then I will kill you with my bare hands," his warning was solid and he was known for his word, be it right or wrong, easy or hard to bare.

She knew he would find her and he would kill her.

She turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief. "You can not just leave me here!" she cried out pleading with the lord. Reaching out to him, she hoped for pity. Hoped he would wait for her in the least.

He was beyond that point and had promised to let her soak in the responsibility of what she was doing. It was necessary for her to become what he wanted her to be. Besides that he liked that desperation on her face, he loved the smell of her fear, the panic in her voice. It was intoxicating.

"Find your way back Miyabi or" he told her heaving his weight over the saddle of his horse. "I will kill you. I promise."

Miyabi watched him go sobbing into the dirt, her body exposed to any passerby. Had her father condone his behavior? Did he encourage it?

In that moment, she realized how defeated she was. She could do nothing even if she wanted to and she took in the truth as if it were written in stone. No would come to help, no one would truly save any innocence about her. She was alone in this world as she was in those woods, laying bare to the world.

What had he and the lord spoken of as she readied herself for this? He knew, she decided. He knew and he did not care.

Her snivels had turned into nothing the more than quite tears as she stared at the skyline that peeked through the mangled branches. Bits of chilly wind poked at her skin.

Little by little, she could feel herself falling apart, taking in what had just happened. She was once again too afraid to run away and foolish enough to stay. Where would she go if she did decide to flee?

It would disgrace the Lord. The thought of a woman racing away from her groom would disgrace any man and a lord even. She would be asking for death.

There were things worst than death, she had been told, but most unsure of them. There were things that she loath, but still she wanted life. Nothing compared to it and even when she had caused disruption, she had always learned, experienced, and grew. Was that why she hung on so?

With the confusion left from a broken heart, she decided. Listening to the crunch of leaves, she rolled over, making careful precautions to keep her body from brushing against the dirty grounds. A smirk crossed her lips through her tears at her pettiness.

The time to be unsoiled had passed. The lord had seen her and so would every other man that walked through this forest during the day. A little dirt was nothing at this point, but an insignificant stain.

Lifting the weight of the world upon her shoulders, she began to drag her feet back down the familiar trail home.

_**---((()))---**_

****

_**Words that may help**_

_**Oda**- order_

_**Yamato**- Ancient Japan_

_**Disclaimer- **_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi. Thus, I do own some of the character placed in this story._


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sorry so late.**_

_**Chapter6; Painful Truths **_

_**---((()))---**_

He approached from the distance, bouncing upon a gallant looking steed. It's sheer coat flawless, shimmering like well made brown silk in the noonday sun. Muscles trimmed and tense, it galloped over the terrain with hoofs that clopped on the ground in a rhythmic tune.

The servants in the yard ceased their duties to stare at the gentleman as he approached. He held his head high and without effort he was marvelous in his samurai uniform. His hair had fallen from the high knot that held it earlier that morning, allowing the locks to danced behind him, cascading through the wind as he gripped the reins of his horse. He was handsome today. He had been impeccably groom by his servants and even his earlier rut wasn't enough to flaw his perfect form.

"Lord Yamato has returned," a hush whisper spread from one mouth to another. They could not help, but stand in awe of him. He was like a god.

From behind a clothesline, in clear view of the samurai, Itsuka could feel her heart fluttering like a million tiny butterflies. A lone sheet in her hands, draping on the dusty ground as she gazed at him. Her lips parted and she spoke his name to make it all the more real to her.

"Lord Yamato." So light was her voice as she stood there allowing the clean sheet to slip from her hands, spilling onto the ground. The thought of getting reprimanded for permitting the sheet to collect dirt did nothing as she did not move to pick it up. Never had her eyes seen such a beautiful sight.

He was perfect and she could not help wishing that she was the woman that would share his bed at night.

She clasped her hand, one on top of the other over her heart to keep it from fluttering out of her chest. When he reached the outskirts of the yard, it was as if he had heard that pounding of her heart. His eyes fell to her's in a brief moment of passing.

Time itself had stopped for her. She could have fainted right then and there. Her knees buckled and she grabbed the clothing line before her to steady herself. A light smile crossed her lips and she was in heaven.

He had seen her if nothing else and she had been his attention for that instant. Itsuka found that she loved it.

What a man, she thought. Her simple smile turning into a grin from ear to ear.

"Itsuka-san?" the voice was a quiet whispering in her ear.

It was him, she was sure. He had felt what she had felt, wanted what she wanted, and he turned to come get her.

"Yes, my lord," she sung turning to fall into his arms where he would take her away, far away from this place. "I-"

"Itsuka-san?" The voice was questioning her now and came in to high pitched and light to ever be the voice of her beloved lord.

Itsuka blinked once. Then again, finding scrawny arms holding her up and she leaned her head onto a thin bone hard shoulder.

"What?" she jumped up as slow comprehension came upon her and she found herself propped against one of the smaller maids of the household. Her narrow eyes larger than Itsuka had ever seen them, staring at her as though she had lost her mind.

Damn it all, Itsuka thought the hint of embarrassment painting her cheeks rosy. Though instead of a simple apology, Itsuka found herself frustrated.

How could it have not been him? He had, after all, glance at her and she was sure that something had transpired, but she could not figure if it was just her that felt that something.

"You interrupted my thoughts, damn you," she snapped at the girl, placing her palms to the girls chest and heaving her to the ground.

She fell on her bottom with a soft plop, to stun to react to Itsuka, her kimono absorbing the morning dew. She gazed up at the older girl in wonderment.

Itsuka hated her. Even as she stared down at her, she hated the way her hair graced her back elegantly, caressing the sides of her elliptically shaped face. More than that she hated the way the dark locks cast shadows on her perfectly straight nose making it look smaller than it was. She looked more like a doll than the inadequate servant of her lord.

Gekido stared back up at her, her eyes once again returning to the thin slits of anger that she had approached Itsuka with. The sight of the fallen sheet had met that she was slacking of again. If she had not been so tired, she would have definitely pummeled the arrogant witch.

She frowned lifting herself from the ground taking into account how easy it would be to jump on her back as she turned to walk away. Her head held high, proud of her shameless behavior towards Gekido.

Sighing, she gathered the dirty sheet in her hands, watching Itsuka stroll towards the house.

Her arrogance was more than enough for a servant girl. Gekido found out over the years that her on going friendship with Lady Miyabi had much to do with it. It was because of that that she was able to get away with a number of things that Gekido would not dream of doing.

A promiscuous girl was what Itsuka was. She was still just a child to Gekido, despite the fact that she was a year over Gekido. Her childish pouts and selfish attitude were not the makings of a mature woman and could only lead to downfall in Gekido's opinion.

It boggled her mind to see the lady with such a girl. What could the two of them share so that it brought a relationship between them? They were so opposite.

Tossing her hair back over her shoulders, Gekido tightened her grip on the now dirty sheet.

A bitch was what she was, she smirked as a chilly breeze swept through the locks on her head.

_**---((()))---**_

Almost there.

She could see it over the horizon. It shown like a safe haven, something of heaven.

Miyabi's feet staggered over the rough terrain, rocks gnawing at her toes. Some had started to bleed.

Tears had dried on her cheeks leaving crusted tracks of salt around her eyes, but the river…

That same river that she had so carelessly stared into after her hair laid by her feet. It was only inches away and there she could wash herself, clean her face and look something of a human again.

The fuzzy haze that had clouded her mind was starting to clear, and the pain in her legs had become numb. Never had she walked such a distance. It was tiring and without clothes is was unbearable. Racing behind bushes was not what she thought a lady should have to do and yet here she was. Each passerby she would run scared, finding the nearest tree or bush that could cover her enough to suffice.

It was true humiliation. She had thought that only a man with the same wits as her father could come up with such a chastisement for something that she had not done. Maybe she should not have been caught out at night with such a man, but she had not touch him.

He had touched her though and in all regards it had been utterly weird. He was a monk, for goodness sake. Why would he?

Still, it went no further. She had tried to explain that. She had tried to tell her father that she had remained innocent of all wrong doing on her part and he should know now, more than anybody that she was truthful in her words.

It made her sick, even as she stared down into the water of the river as it frolicked over embedded rocks.

Without warning, she collapsed to her knees, jagged rocks sending sharp pains up her legs. She had run to long and to hard, but she could not be out of her father's territory at sunset. Sounds could already be heard throughout the forest. Sounds that Miyabi had never heard sending waves of panic and fear through her.

Her second demon contact was something that she did not want to go through alone. She did not know what to do to rid herself of demons, nor did she think anyone would come to her rescue, after all no one had saved her for the lord.

Besides that, it was cold. The breezes of wind had turned into a bitter frost that ached Miyabi's bones.

Feeble, yet determine, she cupped the water in her hands in a gawky manner. Her shaking allowing the water to slip between her fingers before she could press it to her lips.

By her third dismal try, she growled out in frustration and submerged her head into the water, devouring the cool contents like a savage beast. It filled her belly with nothing, but weight, making her sicker than she had been when she laid beneath the lord as he ripped her clothing.

When she could not take in anymore without a breath, she lifted her head with all intend of ducking it once again, but the light whistle in the wind echoed around her and with it the sound of leaves being crushed on the ground.

Someone was coming. Her first instinct was to run, hide, and hope that they would simply pass by. So she poised herself behind the nearest bush, not far from the river's edge and waited.

_**---((()))---**_

Tenrai flicked his braid over his shoulder, a frown maimed his face. It stunk, just like the rest of his garments.

Signing, he wasted no time in ripping the purple kesa from his robe. After spending the night in a horse stable, it was the least trouble he supposed. Especially since he woke beneath the belly of an overgrown monster that he was sure had some type of demon heritage. 'Clydesdale.' They told him.

A demonic animal, he thought staring at the beautifully kept steed. Still, it was rare and huge, and rare and huge creatures brought in rare and huge prices.

"Indeed," he spoke out loud.

One the bright side, the day was the ideal introduction to the winter months. A chilly breeze came from the north bringing with it a tranquil air to the forest. Something that Tenrai was scarcely use to and he enjoyed the peace about him. Even the trees, that were turning an uncomely shade of brown, were lively.

Larks sang in the distance, and he whistled with them. Not a song just a conjunction of notes that made no sense.

He had been more than happy when the villagers told him of the stream that resided to the west. Now, he treaded over the dirt path, his sandals gritty on his feet. The stream was only a few feet away and he could hear the racing waters.

Before he relieved himself of his clothes for the necessary bath, he tossed the purple cloth into the water and watched as it floated away catching on a cluster of rocks hindering its travels down river.

"As you should be," he nodded at the fabric as though it had in some way obeyed his command.

Unguarded and unabashed, he tore from his robes like a eager child, elated to be free of the stench of horses. They were vastly becoming annoying. Or maybe it was the people upon them, after all that bastard had stopped the beast before him when it sneezed.

Tanaka.

The name still brought about a bitter taste. Though exceedingly grateful for his release, it was hard not to loathe a man like that. His worldly aggression was uncalled for and sorely misplaced on the young boyish-girl that he calmed as his daughter.

If Tenrai would have known that he would have to leave so abruptly he would have taken more of a tour around Tenrai's abode. Riches were sure to embellish the home. At least, he had obtained a wonderfully rich looking vase that he'd hacked off for breakfast in the village.

Sure it was worth so much more, but it would be a terrible burden carrying it in the sleeve of his robe with the scrolls, bottle of sake, and the small golden box that seemed to make the entire night worth wild. So delicately detailed and placed aside like nothing.

Tanaka was rich undeniably so. He would not miss such a small trinket that simply decorated the small corner table of the guest room.

He sighed rather noisily, stretching bare limbs towards the sky completely unaware of the astonished eyes lurking in the bush. He was to concerned with the coolness of the water as he tested it with a tap of his big toe.

"Damn it all."

Miyabi's eyes were wide, glittering like jewels under the setting sun. Questions raced through her head, ones that she would be to ashamed to ask anyone, but the closet of friends.

He was so lean. Taller without his robes and with limbs that could easily wrap around her twice. Toned by years of training and, yet he seemed so fragile as though he could breakdown at a moments notice. Not that he was delicate, she noticed as he fell into the cold water with only a slight wince, but his movements were lingering, moving with an unrelenting sadness that was only noticeable by an observant eye.

Life with her father had taught her to be weary and over sensitive toward the actions of men. They made her apprehensive.

He was no different. As her eyes roamed the scenic view of skin touched slightly by the ending summer sun, she became frightfully aware of how unseasoned she was. More so when she laid eyes upon his pale bottom, toned and tightly put together.

Was that what she could expect from Lord Yamato?

Was that what made them so powerful? So much more powerful than her?

Her own situation forgotten, she quickly covered her eyes out of respect, grateful that he had not turned around for her to gain a full view of his frontal area. She did not want to see it. She did not want to know.

However, she could not deny the truth that she was taken with the desire to view the sensual man.

What a worthless wife she would be if she was caught staring at a naked man through the dense greener of the forest? She could not truly yield anything of merit to her husband with such disloyal behavior. Was that not the reason she was in such a position?

Naked, running through the forest like a savage monkey, hiding from society. Shameful of their eyes, for fear that she would be thought of as crazy, unfit for civilization.

If she had minded herself, she would not be out in the wilderness left to wonder home, guided by thin slits in the trunks of trees. The daimyo had ever intention of her returning to him as he sliced them with the tip of his sword.

Apprehending her situation made the water in her stomach seem all the more heavier. Her eyes were still covered and her thoughts had made warm water slip between her fingers that covered her face.

How could she? How could she stop to gawk at an unsuspecting man? Her future husband was waiting. The man who would take her away and keep her safe for the rest of her life. He was her savior. No matter how she tired to deny it, everything was clear. He was her only way out without death and still he could be the death of any woman.

Suddenly she felt more than exposed. She felt dirty, disgusting. She was to become a lady.

In her state, she could defile her future lord's name and her father would not hesitate in her chastisement.

My way out, she thought the emotions on her face betraying the emotions in her mind.

It was fate. Her fate and nothing could stop it.

As she sat there, naked and half frozen, she was willing accept that fact. She would willingly take upon herself the burden of her father's desire for power and her lord's repute.

It was the frigid stream of water that tumbled down her cheek that woke her from her cogitation, and she was back in the forest, hiding behind the brush.

The monk had closed his eyes and his head tilted back. She was not sure if he was sleep or in some form of Buddhist meditation. Neither did she care anymore. His purple cloth was still entangled in the bed of rocks only a few feet from where she hid. Wet or not, it would serve her better now than it had ever done him.

In his mind over matter state, Tenrai had failed in noticing Miyabi as she crept from behind the brush, but he knew that she was there. She had shifted her weight behind the brush as she stared at him sounding off a series of small crumbing leaves. Who she was and why she spied on him were not that important as he sensed no danger.

She was weak, he figured. He would leave once his bath was over.

The water, no matter how cool, was still a nice comfort this time of day. The soft, soothing sound of the crystal liquid as it rushed down stream was truly wonderful. Swaying with the breeze, then splashing with a vigorous force.

Absolutely wonderful, he thought. He could feel the tension in his body relaxing, washing away with the motion around him.

It was the unnatural motions of the water that stirred him. Alerted, his eyes shot opened and his head whirled towards the noise. His body motions that of a warrior in battle. He nearly jumped to his feet, almost grabbed the closes rock to him and heaved it towards the intruder. But at the sight before his eyes, he stopped.

The beauty that stood there had his kesa gripped tightly against her chest. Water dripped from her hair gluing it to her head, while her skin gleamed the color of honey. The look on her face was stunned and frightened, yet more so determined. Her eyes shined like the very water he sat in. Her thighs poked out from the cover of his kesa as she covered herself with what she could.

He blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. Maybe dreaming, still in his meditative state. For she was a true vision. A breath of fresh air. Then just as quick as she had appeared, she disappeared turning to run from him.

To rid herself of his sights, without realizing that she had embedded her image forever in his mind.

He watched her go, uncovered from the back. Memorizing ever jiggle and move her body made. Exquisite she was. The sun just lightly touching her exposed skin and she was everything that he could have asked for.

It was the burning in his lungs that enlightened him to breath. Slowly, order and logic returned to his mind and so did the realization that she had also made away with his kesa.

It had been the third one this month and Mushin would be more than upset even though it had been Tenrai's own responsibility to bless the frivolous thing.

"Wait," he choked out. A massive lump in his throat restricted much of what he wanted to say as she completely vanished from sight. As greatly as he wanted to follow, he stayed his place, the small drops of water on his skin unbearably cold. Her face becoming recognizable in his mind and he felt a pit of regret in his heart.

Why was she like this and how could he have passed up such a woman, mistaking her for a child? What he had seen did nothing for a child?

And his kesa. It suited her, more so than him. After all how would it look if he half robed, chased her half covered in his purple cloth towards the palace.

It would look like exactly what he wanted it to look like. He would be the last to complain. Maybe he'd catch up with her and tumble to the grass. She'd laugh and they'd find themselves tangled together.

Ridiculous, he laughed taking back to the waters, ducking his head low. At least he still had the small box.

He sighed regretting how much he liked that boyish hair cut.

_**---((()))---**_

Gekido was a quite girl, obedient and most sincere, when not bothered. She was light on her feet and considered one of the more striking servants of the lord's mansion. Though she never acted the part and never halted in her duties to give attention to the male population. Still, she was not ignorant of what she was. Neither was she naïve as to why Itsuka hated her so.

She had watched her over her many years of service to the lord. She was a jealous girl, even of the lady, though poor Miyabi had no knowledge of it. Behind closed doors she whispered about her, told of how her father hated her and would never accept such a child to rule his countries and others laughed, and commented as though they could take her place, but Gekido only watched.

She personally never had a hate for the lady, only admiration at first sight. She held her head high and the remnants of a smile on her face. Her kimono had been tailored to fit her thin frame and she was magnificent. At the age of twelve, Miyabi stood by her father in the court of lord's. It was her mother's gathering and, yet Miyabi was the belle of the ball, though she did not act as though she truly knew her own beauty. She was, dare she say it, down to earth.

It was at this gathering that Gekido had first served. Her hands were shaking and she felt uneasy as their eyes turned to her for drinks. It was those hard-nosed lords that scared her so and it was one of those that she spilt her first sake on. Showering his robe with small droplets of the liquid, that would never be gotten out. Before she could get out the first words of apology, he lifted his hand to strike her with his own sense of justice.

It was Miyabi that grabbed her servant robes and tugged her from his grasp. She stood before him as though his equal measuring a perfect two feet shorter than him. "Allow her the opportunity to apologize before you strike her down," she spoke so bold and clear. Not a word flinched, not a word stuttered.

It was shocking and even the lord gazed at her in amazement as she dared him to speak. Gekido felt her stomach flip. That moment had been so tense that she could still feel her heart flutter at the relief the lady had provided her with. The lord only laughed as he stared down at her, claiming that she would be a bride to behold one of these days.

Miyabi had smiled at her and ordered her like she had taken her mother's place. "Go, sit for a while before returning. Catch your breath."

Gekido had raced from the room in her mind she could still see the lady. So bold, daring, and untouched by the looks of the lord. It still amazed her how she could be so damned confident in the mist of royalty.

After the death of her mother, Miyabi became withdrawn and the only person who could get close to her was Itsuka, who had seemed to be her friend since childhood. Everyone else was dealt a business exterior, as servant and master.

But now…

Gekido bit her lip as she recalled to mind the look on the lady's face that morning as she announced the arrival of Lord Yamato. So happy that she had been the first to met her with the news, only to be boggled when she laid eyes on the lady's face. So confused, so much more alone than she had been before.

Her father, Gekido gritted her teeth at the thought of that man. She hated him for the things that he had done to Miyabi. What a fool of a man, he was?

Why he hated his own daughter so much was not clear, but no man could do the things that he had done without hate. Gekido was sure of it and still…

Sometimes she found herself wanting to say something encouraging when she was alone with her, cleaning the small confides of her room, but she was afraid to. To shy, she didn't want to sound stupid or like a babbling servant to the lady. There was nothing worst than having the woman you admire the most think of you as idiotic. So Gekido kept to herself, promising one day that she would speak to her and say the words that will be necessary to say.

She stifled a yawn as her feet shuffled down the wooden steps toward the yard and she bobbed her head to the tune it made in her mind. It was well pass noon and her run in with Itsuka had been long forgiven, but never forgotten.

Her nose turned up at the thought of her approaching the rows of clothing lines. Stomping off like she had the world in the palm of her hands. She was no lady, that was for sure.

Gekido grunted at her own annoying thoughts. She had told herself to forget Itsuka, though it was troubling. The way she got away with her unorthodox behavior.

"Let it be, Gekido," she whispered tugging that same fallen sheet from that morning, over the line with meticulous precisions. She ran her hands over the soaked fabric making sure there were no wrinkles tainting the sheet that Itsuka dropped.

With another long suffering sigh, she continued her inspection. To her, it had to be perfect for the lady as she was sure that she would use it before her father would. After all, it was the least she could do and her work mirrored it. That perfection that the others had come to expect from her work.

She even folded with accuracy, hating to find the least bit of unruly fabric. Her grandmother had taught her that she was a reflection of her work and Gekido wanted to look her best for when Miyabi took notice. Convinced, that one day she would notice her and thank her and maybe they could become friends as close as she and Itsuka.

But I would be different, she smiled rubbing her fingers over the hanging sheet, once again going over each thread for unwanted mistakes.

Just as a grin crossed her lips, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a lovely shade of purple, limping up the hilly horizon. She strained her eyes to make out the figure, vigilant about outsiders. More so of monks.

But slow and steady realization took her and her heart leaped to her throat. She was not sure if she should race to her or stay were she was. Lady Miyabi was only a few yards away, tears raced down her cheeks and her face was twisted in waves of agony.

Gekido was frozen in place.

How she wished to race to her and comfort her. She could lead her into the house and into her room, take care of her as a friend and servant, but she could not move. Could not even breath until the burning in her lungs became an intense flame. Then she gasped for air.

Move, she screamed in her head. Please move.

"My lady!" the shout came from the opposite side of the yard. Her grandmother voice was frantic. Gekido only stared as the older woman ran rather lopsided towards the girl as she collapsed to her knees in the grass.

Tears could have fell out of Gekido's eyes as she watched on. Why could she not move? Why could she not have been the first one to her lady's side?

Suddenly, the weight of the world was on her shoulders as she cursed herself five times over for her panicked reaction.

I wanted to be the one, she cried inside. I wanted to be the one.

_**---((()))---**_

The lady was put to bed without a visit from her father or Lord Yamato. They both had been locked in Tanaka's study, not to be bothered by something as petty as Miyabi's return, as clearly stated by Tanaka after a servant, hysterical and perplexed, had dared to enter and state the obvious.

Itsuka was smiling though even as she closed the door to Tanaka's study. The lord had cut his eyes at her and for a moment he had a look of recollection in his eyes. It was better than nothing. She wanted to make her move. She was ready to show him that she was more than just the lady's servant, but every time she got close to him, there was Tanaka.

Damn, if he was not the biggest annoyance in the entire compound, she frowned to herself clenching her fist to keep her anger at bay. The worst thing she could do was to stomp into the study and explode on Tanaka. It would only show how disobedient she could be.

A lord needed a compliant wife of a humble mind and superb body. And she easily considered herself breathtaking. After all she had a thin waist and high perked breast. Everything a man would want.

And I am sharp too, she laughed under the cover of her hand. Almost to sharp for my own good, she encouraged herself feeling as if she had accomplished the title of lady already.

"There you are." His voice was almost an irritation. If he had not been so good in bed, she would have told him to leave.

"Mushin," she gasped.

He had appeared in front of her so quickly that she nearly fell into him, but he grabbed her shoulders to steady her steps and pulled her into a small storage room. It was only big enough for the two of them along with the few crates of rice crop and a stream of light from a small opening in the worn bamboo of the wall.

She thought of him as pathetic as he stared at her with a gleam in his eye as if she was everything. She pressed her back against the wall, readying herself to let him know what she felt, but he spoke first.

"I had to see you," he whispered easily shutting them in the small and crowded room. "I must speak to you."

"Mushin, what are you doing?" she grunted balling her already tight fist tighter. Would he get in her way as well?

"I must tell you." Then without warning he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that she did not want to pull away from. After all, he was well rounded in that area.

By the time she caught herself, he was drawing away from her. He smiled and for a moment he was even more handsome than the lord, but his robes could not stand up to the strength of a samurai uniform. Neither was his hands draped in rare jewels.

Unexpectedly, Mushin gazed deep into her eyes, with every fiber of his being, freezing her in place. He wanted her to listen to his words, watch his movements and remember this moment for the rest of their lives, together. "I love you, Itsuka."

Her breath was lost and her heart fluttered at the sheer excitement she felt. He loved her. Mushin loved her and he wanted her to know. Never had a man spoken those words to her, not even her own father had been so passionate.

The wind whistled through the small bamboo hole lifting the ends of her hair at the perfect angles to cast the perfect shadows. On her face the look of a woman perfectly dazed and in her mind the perfect atmosphere. It was the perfect dream, but every time she blinded it was not the perfect man.

Though touched by his confession, she could not control the drop her heart made, landing at her feet. She did not want Mushin. She did not think she wanted Mushin.

His words as pure and genuine as they were, came from the wrong mouth, laid in the heart of the wrong man, but his touch on her arms were gentle and his kisses were as sweet as the watermelons her father had grown when he was able.

He was absolutely wonderful as he stood there beaming down on her. Not waiting on her responses, he glanced over his shoulder as if someone was watching the two. "I will return for you," he promised her moving in for another kiss and she did not stop him.

His confession was painful. She could not decipher why until she felt his arms tighten around her locking her securely to his chest. She loved that feeling. Nothing could compare to that flutter in her belly, that weakness in her knees. Absolutely perfect.

Not that Itsuka did not love him. She had a sentiment for all of her lovers, but she never planned to marry him. How could he think that she would settle for his life? He could only provide the mediocre life that she was so use to.

He pulled her closer and for a moment she was lost as was he. The gentle caress on her back, the depths of his love, and the texture of his lips upon hers was more than she could handle. Her heart broke as he released her from his lips and from his grasp.

Subsequently, she forgot to think until he touched her cheek wiping away the delicate jewel like tear. She had not even known that she had started crying.

That jolly laughter of his filled her head and he spoke, "Do not be worried, my love. I will renounce my position, and throw down my robes. First, I must fulfill my promise to my fellow monk and I will return with money for your freedom from this place."

His promise was gut wrenching. Never had someone offered her such a pleasure. It hurt.

As a last ignorant attempt at reassurance, he smiled at her renewing his eye contact. "I will not forget my promise."

Finally, he turned away from her, leaving her with the same dumbfounded look that she had had when he first pulled her into the small closet. Still, he confused it with an emotion of magnificent shock and smiled to himself as he stepped out of the enclosure to depart and be on his way.

Before she could gain any resolve to stop him and speak the truth behind her tears, he was gone.

Echoes of his kiss made her touch her lips.

How could he ever think that she wanted to be with him in a small house, in a small village, with millions of tiny babies to care for like a common village peasant?

I want bigger things, she told herself. Better things.

"Only if-" she whispered to herself, gripping her heart through the material of her kimono. The ache would not stop. "If only-"

Her knees went weak in response, letting her body slide down the wall until her bottom hit the floor.

Why won't they stop? She asked herself reaching to wipe away the tears that had started to surface like a waterfall from the corners of her eyes. It was unbearable. His words were unbearable and had started to play over and over in her mind.

If only the tears would stop.

Immediately, she buried her face in her hands.

"Curse you, Mushin," she whispered through her palms finding herself unable to hold back the open sobs that escaped her.

He should have just left her, like the others.

_**---((()))---**_

****

_**Words that may help**_

_**Gekido- **__wrath_

__

_**Disclaimer**_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi. Thus, I do own some of the character placed in this story_

_**Thank You for Reading**_


	7. Chapter 7

__

**Thanks _tasukigirl78_ ****for the review**; **What can I say, I'm a lover of blank slants. It leaves so many possibilities. Hope you don't have a squeamish stomach. Thanks for reading**.

Thanks Bastion for your hard work.

_**Chapter 7; Departure**_

_**---((()))---**_

When word came to her, Gekido dropped the small serving tray that she held, tea spilt at her feet. As hot as it was, she couldn't bring herself to care. For the first time that day, Lady Miyabi was the furthest thing from her mind.

The sound of glass shattering was much to loud in the quite halls, but she did not hear it. The girl in front of her stood ready if she fell to her knees. She held her arms out for comfort, but Gekido was not that type of girl. She would not collapse in the lord's hall before she knew what was happening.

She had been up with the woman all night watching her, making sure that she slept peacefully. Her nights were seemingly so fitfully that she barely slept at all, but last night had been different. Last night she slept serenely as if not a care in the world. In the morning, she smiled into Gekido's sleepy eyes and told her, 'Child, you worry so much.'

Her smile had been somber, but easy. The wrinkles about her eyes had even smoothed a little. She looked as a well rested woman.

So what was this news that had hit her ears and made her heart drop to her feet? She knew that the girl had been mistaken. She did not know the older woman well any way. What did she know at all?

Her feet padded the through the corridors, gracefully and unusually elegant. Tears blurred her vision and she made it out of pure memory. Turn left, five steps to the right, and three steps to the left, turn to the right.

And there was her room. Candlelight spilled into the hall, inviting Gekido in. The wood whined underneath her feet as she slowed her steps. So many times the woman had laughed at her as she came around the corner. 'Like a wild child,' she'd say. 'If the lord was to catch you, he would most definitely wondered what species you were.'

She'd hug her then and pull her into that room. Place her onto the small pallet, while planting soft kisses upon her cheek. Finally, she'd grin and whisper 'goodnight, child'.

This very morning, she had been out in the fields, folding the white sheets that Gekido had placed on the line. She had even met Miyabi as she limped over the yard, grabbed her, placed her in that same embrace that she held Gekido with many times. So soft and warm it was.

So, why, grandmother? Gekido thought running her fingers alongside the wall as she approached the room, searching for the courage to peek around the corner and look at the woman that would lay in that bed, waiting for her.

'Don't be sad if I go, Gekido,' she had whispered nights before. 'Take care of yourself.' Then she fell into another fitful sleep. Tossing and turning, her fever never breaking, until this morning.

But she had collapsed while in her duty, fallen flat on her face. And she called for Gekido. She called for her grandchild, that she had taken care of since her years as a toddler. Her mother and father were not fit parents.

Such a loving and caring woman, she had been sick all her life and she had even told Gekido that one day she would die. When she was tired and Gekido could take care of herself, she would be gone, watching Gekido from afar.

She was not ready for that, not ready to be on her own, but she knew and her grandmother knew when she had the first restless night three weeks ago, she did not have long.

Gekido stopped just short of the narrow entrance, pressing her back against the cool wood, closing her eyes. If she stopped moving, stopped breathing, then maybe time itself would stop and it would all be avoidable. For a moment, that was exactly what she did.

"Child," the voice was so feeble, so broken. "You cannot stand there all night."

The older woman was smiling, almost laughing. That was what Gekido did. Made her smile, made her laugh, made her worry, made her cry. Even so close to death, she still brought emotions that the older woman had distanced herself from in this place.

"Nothing changes," she reiterated as she had time and time again. Gekido had that way about her. Wanting to stop the inevitable as if she could save the world. "I want you here, child."

That brought the young woman out. She rounded the corner, tears lined her cheeks, her fingers intertwined before her, saddened and guilt written eyes circled the room. She did not want to see her grandmother this way. Weak, tired, and ready to take death by the hands.

The older woman had only seen that look once in her life. The first time she had met the girl, circling behind her mother, beaten and bruised. Her father had been angry that morning and taken it out of the small child and her mother… She still had not deciphered if she was trying to save the young one or wanted her out of the way. Knowing her daughter, she knew it was the later. Such an irresponsible thing she was, but it really did not matter. She had given her Gekido and that made her proud.

She watched the girl's steady steps as she circled around her few onlookers. They, too, held looks of pity and sadden hearts. Right now, it did not matter. Only Gekido mattered.

Cautiously, she approached the side of the bed were her grandmother laid. She was a gorgeous child and a striking lady, as her mother was. To bad, her grandmother did not know where she could tell the girl to find her.

Gekido sunk to her knees beside her, resting her hands on the soft mattress, to afraid to touch her.

"You worry me so, child," she whispered taking in a deep painful breath.

"Grandmother, I am sorry," she offered a useless apology, looking at the woman for the first time. Her face was ghostly white and the wrinkles about her eyes had increased adding years to her looks. Even so she smiled and her eyes gleamed. Gekido liked that.

With what little strength she had left, the woman reached a bone-thin hand to touch the girl's face. She acted so innocent in her own way.

"A girl with your beauty." Her comment brought a smile to Gekido's face. She had told her time and time again that she worried her so much being as beautiful as she was. The demons would steel her away.

Without realizing it, she gripped the older woman's hand as it slipped away from her face to weak to withstand. "I…I…I don't want you to go," she cried out at last as if the woman did not know it. She knew her plead was useless.

"But you are so strong, Gekido. I cannot continue this way," her voice was in murmurs and her chest had begun to rattle at each breath. "As I have told you before, I want you to take care of yourself."

Gekido knew that more than she did anything. Her grandmother told her that day by day every morning, since she first arrived.

There were more important matters that the woman wanted to address, though**; s**omething that had bothered her for quite sometime now. "Gekido," her voice was serious and on a whisper. "Lady Miyabi will be leaving soon. I want you to go with her. Leave this place once I'm gone."

Gekido stared at the woman ready to question why, when understanding dawned on her.

Too beautiful, that was what she had been told. Lord Tanaka had his way with beautiful women as did some of his men, but the woman had been here to protect her and shield her from their roaming hands and perverted intentions.

"Be friends with her as you always wanted." Then, there was that. Something had always bothered her grandmother about the way Gekido viewed the lady as though she were a god, something truly special. Behind closed doors she would serve her needs, never noticed, and never phased by the lack of attention. "You will need her protection."

The sudden frailty that gripped her heart had begun to spread, blurring what little vision she had.

Just one moment, she begged refusing to let go until she spoke her last words.

"Take care of yourself, Gekido. I have loved you and will continue from were I will be." The rattle in her chest was loud, but brought about an ease in the woman and she heard Gekido's whisper.

"I love you, too."

Her vision was too dimmed by then and soon she could only make outlines of the girl, but she felt the warmth of her touch as she gripped her hand tighter. Her eyes were closing and she couldn't tell it. The urgent nature that took hold of the girl by her bedside was sorely misplaced as she could feel herself slip away and for a moment she felt that peaceful rest that she had missed for the last three weeks. Nothing could compare to the quite serenity that engulfed her.

"Grandmother, I love you," she heard her. Heard the whimpering and whining that Gekido produced and could only wish her the best as she had begun to fad from her memory as well.

At long last, after her hard work, the woman laid to rest.

_**---((()))---**_

He should not have smiled. He knew that.

The village was in chaos and all he could do was smile. His insides felt all giddy like the women that he so adored. His robe of black was more than enough help with his plan.

He straightened his back and wondered to the other end of the barn. It had long since cleared out of people. At word of an approaching demon, they fled to the comfort of homes, women and men alike.

It was that very demon that had stolen his kesa as he bathed. It was a powerful cloth after all and with that much spiritual power the demon could ransack the place, eat the small child, rape the women, and rip the very skin from a man's body. And he had told them so.

"Go to your homes," he warned. "Clear the streets and do not look out until the sun had gone down."

Yeah, that was what he told them. From the people in the rice fields, to the men in the stables, he made sure they heard him.

"I will need a horse," he insinuated as hurrying feet rushed passed him. One woman nearly pushing him to the ground, hair wild and eyes bewildered.

"The one in the stable," she suggested pointing towards the stables. "Tanaka keeps that one in the village."

And the wonderful day had just gotten better.

"I will leave and steer it away from the village." He sounded so vigilant, so brave. He was the hero that would save them all and rob Tanaka blind.

Tenrai had quickly taken the horse, tearing through the town. His wet hair fluttered behind him making crystal droplets in the air. Against her mother's will, a small child watched him and thought of him as her savoir. He sure looked the part as the huge steed passed her family's hut.

Then he was gone into the woods towards the river retracing his steps, but this time with a beautiful exotic beast that would bring in many nights of companionship with someone other than Mushin.

_**---((()))---**_

Miyabi had heard the commotion outside of her window, but refused to take a look. She was too dazed to speak, too stunned to move.

Lord Tanaka had peeked in her door several times and it was confusing. Needless was the thought that he was checking in on her, but why? Did he know something that she did not? Had he wanted to see what state she was truly in? Or was he just a caring father concerned for his daughter's safety? She liked to think of it as so and decided that was what she would believe.

She lay in the same position and that bothered him. Tanaka had never seen her like that before and was beginning to wonder if the punishment was a mistake. For the fifth time that day, he shifted his position enough to peek through the thin opening in her door.

Same position. The thin layer of cover rising with each breath.

She was alive and that was enough for now.

"My Lord." The words were said through a tight throat, visibly stressed.

An irritation crept up his spine. He had not wanted Miyabi to know that he stood outside her door again. He did not want to show concern for the girl, for she might not learn the lesson that he wanted to teach. And now with a simple word, she no doubt knew who stood watch over her.

He turned away on his heels, tight cress in his jaw line. Through his teeth, he answered, "What is it?"

He had not even looked at her, yet and the servant girl felt inadequate. Afraid of facing the man on two feet, she'd rather kneel and beg for forgiveness. His presence commanded it.

The world was closing in on the small woman, but she held her position with a rattle in her knees. "A servant has died, my lord."

"Was that all, Jin?"

His words caught her off guard and the expression she held showed her surprise. Though it was not allowed she stared up at her lord to assure herself that it was indeed him that she was talking to. How could a man be so heartless? He had just lost one of his most faithful servants and he could not be the least bit of concern. It was shameful and utterly disgusting.

She had not even seen it coming, nor did she feel the heavy hand on her face. It resounded down the hall, turning the heads of all who heard. Her impact to the hardwood floor brought her out of her stupor and immediately she grabbed the side of her cheek more of an instinct, for it neither stung, nor ached.

She refused to look up at him, refused to even move. His footsteps pounded on the floor beside her ear coming to a stop not to far from her head.

"You are never to look at me like that again," he warned, his voice rumbled in a dangerous whisper, a promise of things to come if she didn't obey.

How had she looked at him? She found herself questioning herself, going over in her mind the very creases that had contoured her face. Yes, she did look at him questioning, disgusted, and in absolute disbelief.

Lifting her head, she caught sight of the lord's robes fluttering behind him as he gallantly strolled through his halls towards the servant quarters.

Tears could have come to her eyes, had she not seen him do this to many before hand. Her lord was always too uptight for his own good, but as of late she had noticed the change as had others. They had discussed his sleepless night and his wondering days. They had noticed the way he treated his daughter, the distance between them, and the harshness when he spoke of her. The way he looked at her when he thought no one was watching.

She had seen those eyes before. He had looked at her that way once and then smiled at her as they merged between crisp white linen.

God, how it brought shivers down her spine. The way he touched a woman was wonderful and to this day when she thought of him, her toes curled and she longed to crawl into the sheets with such a man again. But he was a brute and when their nights were over, he was indeed Lord Tanaka. The same man that had struck her only seconds ago and left her with a word of warning.

She was sure that it had something to do with the abrupt ending of their affair. He spoke too much of Miyabi in the night and she had even allowed her name to be called during intercourse, so that she could at least have the pleasure that he provided.

She never told anyone, nor had she spoke of it with him and she would never speak in hopes that she would share the man's bed one more night for herself.

He was insane and she knew by ever right what he was capable of doing. God help Miyabi, if he ever got his hands on the girl.

_**---((()))---**_

His footsteps made hollow echoes bounce from wall to wall and he was amused. In his own palace the sounds were heavier and gaping echoing from the very structure itself.

Too small, Lord Yamato decided, noting the darkened bamboo that he guessed to have worn with the years. It seemed so feeble looking compared to what awaited him once he returned to his own home. It was foolish to compare the two.

For Tanaka's small estate would easily fit into his quarters, that he would someday share with his new wife.

As beautiful as she was, she needed refinement. She needed grounding and he was the man to do it. His former wives had been taught the same and each fell into place as would Miyabi. Only she was young and would live longer and healthier than the ones before her.

To have someone so young and fertile beneath him, he mused. It was a desire that he dare not express in the presence of others. He had his pride and would not be denied that if anything else.

Her bedroom was only inches away from him. He had found it on his own, unashamed to enter the girl's dwellings unannounced. After all, he was a lord. She should be honored that he would even want to lay eyes upon her.

He touched the cool wood shoving the door back with a gentleness that was rare in him, but his presence was still harsh right now in Miyabi's mind and it was clear when she nearly leaped from her bed to his feet.

Close enough, he smiled to himself noting the servant at her feet caring for her with tea from a small tray. She even jumped at his entry and like a good servant; she bowed at his feet, her hair sweeping her back like a feathered fan. It made him all the angrier.

Miyabi's hair use to be that way thick lush strains cascading down her shoulders. Many times he had to resist the urge to run his fingers through the black mass. It was out of his character.

"Back to your duties," he ordered her and she lifted, never daring to glance into his eyes, but he, in turn caught a glimpse of her face. A lovely woman, with looks that could carrying her in his palace. She shifted her gaze nervously back to the lady.

He made lower peasants nervous, he knew and at times it infuriated him, now was not one of those times.

He was more irritated at the mess that sat upon the bed.

Her hair short and stubbly flayed all about her head. She was wrapped tightly in a purple colored cloth. She had not even bothered to redress herself into something more suitable. Her eyes were wide with fear and she shook like a scared rat in the mist of a thousands cats. And this was to be his wife.

Pitiful. At the moment, he'd rather take the girl that offered her tea.

"You have nothing to say," his first words to her as he halted before her.

He could see the tightness in her throat as she opened her mouth to speak. "I am sorry," so close to a whisper and so choked, it was barely audible.

Another simple apology, Tanaka explained she had become good at and then she would go back out and do it all over again.

Unacceptable.

She was unacceptable. A mess she was. It only stood out to him that she was still a child.

"Miyabi-chan," he grunted her name more than spoke it openly and it got her attention as well as that of the woman at her feet. He saw her shift her weight and took in the little woman that she was. "That's not good enough."

With a force all his own, he reached, stretching one massive hand towards the woman, and she flinched from him. It did not matter because his fingers still tangled in the disarray of hair on top of her head.

Miyabi cried out as his hand twisted for a better grip and with one hard jerk, he pulled her to the tips of her toes.

Her resolve was breaking as she did not even dare to grab at his hands for release. Instead, she grabbed for the purple cover the she had begun to treasure as her only comfort. It was pointless to fight back.

Yamato smiled inside.

His methods were as always absolute. He had trained soldiers in the fields of battle, who was she that she could not be taught how to live as a lady should.

"The mess that you have made upon your head is unforgivable. Your husband should never see you as such. You will cover your head with scarves until your hair has grown back to an acceptable length," his breath heated her face.

She was listening and she asked no questions only waited for the time when he released her hair so that she could curl up at his feet. The pain to her scalp brought tears to her eyes and a lump in her throat had started to suffocate her.

It was then that she realized that she was truly terrified of her future husband. She did not wish to see how far his anger went. She only wanted in some way for him to love her and she would naïvely follow his rules in hopes that that was what she received.

Her servant had long since hid her head between her knees, wishing to be spared.

Yamato gave a huff of approval, jerking his fistful of hair before dropping her and she curled up like a baby.

As calmly as if he had done nothing, he asked, "Do we have an understanding, Miyabi-chan?"

Burying her face in the purple fabric, she spoke through sobs that had started to form. "Yes, my lord." She brought her legs into her chest tighter and waited for him to leave.

As expected, his footsteps led him to her door, stopping a moment to inform her. "Servants will be here soon to pack your belongings."

The time was finally upon her and her heart had started to ache.

"You will return with me to my palace."

_**---((()))---**_

The beast was large, well-groomed, and overly adorned. His mane had been braided down; long ribbons entwined within each fold and bend the hair made. Not a drop out of place. His thin brown coat was the color of mud, though some of the cleanest mud Tenrai had ever seen. It had been brushed tenderly and held the same gleam as clear water. Each hoof was shiny and brand new, looked as though he had just been fitted.

He fit in perfectly among the peaceful surroundings of the woods. The browning autumn leaves danced all about them casting waving shadows as they floated to the ground.

Perfect, Tenrai smiled patting the top of the horses head with the smile of a true con-man. He adjusted himself and marveled a little more at his beautifully acquired merchandise.

There was not a doubt in his mind that he was indeed strong and maybe a bit too pampered in his stay at the village. He was almost too clean. Who would want a beast so big anyway, but the greediest of them all?

Greed equals money. He could feel the tingly bubbles in his gut. It was excitement, pure unauthorized excitement.

He wondered if the horse could feel the same feelings that he held. As if in answer his huge head began bobbing back and forth wildly and he let out a neigh of glee.

"That's right," Tenrai couldn't help, but to laugh. It was as if he wanted to be stolen. "No, let's not call it that," he spoke out loud in response to his own thoughts. Leaning closer to the horses ears, he whispered. "You were merely rescued."

A sneeze was his answer.

If it wasn't for the money, Tenrai wasn't sure if he would have sold the horse. He was becoming quite fond of him as he seemed to feel the same way.

"So you say," Tenrai laughed at his thoughts as he leaned to the side, shifting his weight to dismount. Meticulousness, he swung his leg over the horses back, lowering it to the ground and miscalculating every step. "Whoa!" His foot swept from underneath himself before his toe could touch the ground and instead his bottom hit the forest floor and hit hard.

The air taken from his lungs made the world spin for a minute and he collapse to the ground, soiling the black robe with light stains of dirt. His eyes trailed the body of the horse measuring his fall, what he noticed brought a smile to his lips until a simple mirth fell upon him.

"No wonder," he laughed turning onto his stomach to push to his feet. "You know," he huffed laying flat on his belly a moment. "You're not the only woman who ever fell in love with Miyatsu."

Miyatsu, he sighed. He had not used that name in years. It was his father's name, his name. He questioned himself every time he heard it. Miyatsu was a man who thought so much of his son to give him his name. His father called him special. He called him significant. That was his gift, his memento.

He dropped the name, as a measure against Naraku. It was just another thing that foul demon had taken from him.

A memento it is, Tenrai laughed pushing to his knees, a solid object digging into his arm. With a wrinkle between his brows, he dug into his robes until his fingers brush that all too important bottle. Ah yes, sake. That bittersweet taste on his tongue was just what he needed and even though she was not human, he did have the company of a magnificent female.

"It's more than I could ask for," he grinned rising to his feet, dusting the lose dirt from his robe with his free hand. "Isn't that right…" His sentence trailed off once he realized…

Hmmmm, what to name her? He felt silly, but a beautiful female should of course have a beautiful name.

"Miyabi." It came from his mouth before he could think and the newly named Miyabi responded with a turn of her head to eye him.

Visions of that pretty little woman racing through the woods towards him, gripping his kesa between her fingers and nothing else to cover herself danced through his head.

A heavy gush of breath raced from his lips as he tore open the bottle of sake and brought it to his lips. He tilted his head back and began draining the bottle until it burned his throat. "Yes, Miyabi," he spoke once he lowered it. "I am a helpless romantic. What is a man like me to do?"

She sneezed.

"Yes, yes, yes," he nodded patting the top of her head. The burn in his chest had begun to turn into a tingling in his gut and he lifted the bottle to his lips once again. Closing his eyes at the spinning world, he began to gulp down more.

After a moment of burning bliss, he lowered the bottle once again. This time closing it and smiling at Miyabi. "Now, my love. We must save some for our fellow Mushin. For he will be here any moment." He eyed the bottle carefully a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Though, I must admit, it does have a pleasant sting to it."

Shoving it back into his hiding place, Tenrai straightened his back and began to survey the area. He had made sure to keep himself in clear route towards their destination. Mushin was sure to find him and he did, oblivious of the happening of last night. It annoyed Tenrai to be honest. He had not even commented on Miyabi, but he said nothing reminding himself once again that the man had enough on his mind. Trouble and whatever gave him that undeniable twinkle in his eye.

He looked damned happy, glittering like a shining star.

Had he reached nirvana on earth? Was he the living Buddha? Tenrai bit his lip as he grabbed Miyabi's rein and began to follow behind Mushin in mocked silence. Whatever was on Mushin's mind was not yet ready to escape his lips.

Once the village disappeared over the horizon, the noonday sun not to far behind, Tenrai could not take it anymore. He had not even noticed the missing kesa of his garments, not even mentioned the wet hair, and more than that had not asked for the small trinket that Tenrai purposely juggled in his free hand.

Abruptly, he halted in his steps, taking in a stifling breath. Miyabi sneezed. He wanted to plan what to say before it escaped his lips. He'd not have Mushin angry while they continued their trail. The thought of the older man's ranting was sorely out of place in their serene surrounding.

More so than anything else was the fact that he had not even noticed his friend had stopped. What the hell? Tenrai raised a brow at the man as he stood five steps, six steps, eight steps, ten steps behind.

"Do you plan to tell me or not?" His first words since they met on the dirt road.

Mushin stopped in his path, coming to his senses. Only then did he realize that Tenrai was nowhere near him. His head turn left to right and left again.

"Wha-?" Mushin questioned, finally deciding that Tenrai was behind him, surprised to see how far behind.

"Will you not share your happiness?" Tenrai reiterated letting go of Miyabi's reins enough to shake imaginary dust from his black robe. "That is not Buddha like of you."

Mushin inhaled deeply before he broke out into a grin that turned Tenrai's stomach. He had not seen the man so happy. His teeth glittering in the sun like diamonds and his face so strained it was turning a hue of purpled-red. It was down right abnormal on him.

Tenrai in all rights drew away from him, unnoticed by the happiest man on earth. His brow raised, a frown of dismay decorated his features.

Dynamically and haphazardly, Mushin rushed to Tenrai, his eyes still dazed and his grin in place. He did not stop until he was a breaths length away from the man, darnn near knocking him down.

Without question, Tenrai sprung into action. Out of sight of the man before him, he began digging in the selves of his robe. His fingers brushing the thin ofuda papers he kept close at hand.

He should have known by the weird actions, the quiet nature, and definitely by that demon-like grin.

"Stay back demon!" he yelled. In one motion, he met Mushin's forehead with a thin strip of paper decorated with symbols of purity. Jumping back, Tenrai gripped his right wrist in preparation.

Mushin frowned then, the stars in his eyes turning into daggers of anger. The thin paper floated away from his forehead, falling like a leaf to his feet. Mushin guessed he had been acting a little off, unlike the Mushin Tenrai had come to know.

"There is no demon here," he mumbled bending to retrieve the ofuda, opting to keep it himself than to give it back to his friend. "I have just found the perfect woman," he snorted stuffing the ofuda deep into his sleeve. He whirled around, the shine of the setting sun glistening off his bald head, and Tenrai smiled.

Now that was understandable. "Many a men fall to her feet, I am sure," he commented meaning only sincerity as he hopped and skipped to catch up with his friend who was fast leaving him behind. "When may I meet the lucky woman?"

"If you can keep your hands to yourself-" Mushin tilted his head questioning. "I will truly consider it."

"Whatever do you mean?" Tenrai took on an air of innocence that only a swindler could muster. "I am the utmost gentleman to those who are deserving." He fell into step beside him. "Curse this hand of mine. It does things of its own volition. Not of mine, I assure you, my friend."

Mushin turned to face his friend. It was then that he noticed the difference in the man's appearance. The void of black he wore. His ranking, his status left to question. It did not make sense for a man to be so careless.

From the shift in his manner, Tenrai knew he had noticed. His face fell like a rock to the ground, and in an instant he was more like a father than a good old drinking buddy. His eyes questioning the robe for answers before he met Tenrai's eyes demanding that he talk.

Out of good intentions, he did, "It was stolen by a beautiful maiden." He smiled most charmingly and if Mushin had been someone else, it would have worked. He would have smiled back and patted him on the shoulder, explained that things happened, but he was Mushin.

With a stomp of his foot, he could have yelled at the boy, "Buddha help me." His temper was rising. How many times did they have to go through such an unnecessary line of reasoning as to why keeping the damn cloth was important?

"It is true." His words sounded real, sounded pure, but so did the black robe. Once they entered the shrine to the east, what was he to tell the head priest.

"Yes, and she had long hair and float upon a cloud with a kimono of gold!" He was yelling out right and if any saw they would have looked like father and son playing dress up in monks clothing. "How many times has it been this month's cycle."

Tenrai straightened his back. Though, he had told the story many times, he felt rather insulted that he was being denied a believer this time around. "Actually," he stuck his nose high in the air, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mushin's heart jumped at that. Maybe this once the man would tell the truth? He would find it in his heart to return to the village and retrieve the purple material that he had probably hacked off again in exchange for something. Perhaps he left it in some unsuspecting woman's hut. Did it wash down river again?

"She had short hair and she ran without clothing." That was nirvana. Inside, Tenrai smiled at his memories; succulent and bittersweet memories.

Mushin could have fallen on his face if it were not for the rocks that would scrape his skin. Instead he buried it in his large left hand and grunted. "Do you have no mind?"

He was only stating the facts, Tenrai could not help it is these situations arose around him. "It was all Buddha's doing." He shuffled his feet not nearly as roused as his friend about his predicament.

"Miyatsu," he growled out. That name was his only disciplinary tactic that seemed to get Tenrai's attention. Buddha knows he needed something and it was no different today.

Tenrai straightened his back, tucking his hands in the sleeves of his black robe. He refused to meet Mushin's eye. He couldn't understand if it was shame or just the simple knowledge that, yes, he had messed up again and there was no going back.

Mushin was the only man that held the knowledge of his true name and even then it was only spoken out of anger which showed visibly on the older man's face. His little round head by now resembled something like a plum with eyes.

Turning away from the older man, lowering his head to cover the light smile that he could hold back no longer, Tenrai prayed that it looked similar to regret. No matter how he tried it was so hard to take his old friend serious in such trivial matters. He was a funny looking angry man, out of sorts.

Whatever clay he was carved out of came from the happiest place on earth.

Tenrai sighed, swallowing what was left of his laughter before lifting his head to stare into the angry man's eyes once again. He had never been that good in these situations. His father usually got him out of these as a child. He was a quick talker and an easy thinker. Nothing seemed to get past him and yet nothing seemed to anger him.

"Miyatsu!" Mushin demanded. It was not hard to tell when the man's mind had begun to wonder. It happened so many times.

Tenrai tapped his chin with his index finger in a thoughtful manner and it only serve to infuriate Mushin even more.

"Damn it." He turned away throwing his hands to the sky in defeat. Nothing could get to the man or at least nothing that did not acquire his interest. To be that free spirited, one would have to be drunk all the time. "Miyatsu, if you were younger…" He turned back to face him, deciding he was not done in his tirade and was met with a smile of glee.

Stretched out towards him was a shiny bottle, a character on the front in bold and black, 'SAKE' and everything was all right. Once again he was calm, his insides turned over with delighted and his frown melted like the ice of winter underneath the summer sun.

"Huh…huh," Tenrai smiled from ear to ear and the fact that he had not been paying any attention to him was long forgotten as the small bottle was ripped from his fingers.

A pout formed on the lips of Tenrai, before the huge beast beside him nudged his arm with the cold wet snout.

As if just noticing for the first time, Mushin back away as though Tenrai had lit him a fire. "What the hell is that?" he questioned taking careful precision not to spill a drop of the sake from its case.

"A horse," Tenrai frowned at his friend moving closer to the animal and with an affectionate manner, he embraced its neck. "I rescued her."

"Rescued it?" He turned away from him in disbelief, cutting his sights out of the corner of his eye.

"Her name is Miyabi," he snapped calmly patting her nose.

"Okay, Miyabi," Mushin whirled around in a full circle before walking closer to face this Miyabi. "What manner of demon are you?" he asked coming to a stop before her, narrowing his eyes to thin slits. "And what type of spell have you cast on this womanizing man?"

"Womanizing?" Tenrai repeated. "I take offensive to that. She loves me out of the goodness of her heart."

"Shall we go, Tenrai?" he smiled with a shake of his head, the bottle tight in his hands. "You too, Miyabi."

_**---((()))---**_

She had watched his back as he left, watched servants fill her room, piling beautiful fabrics into bags and loading precious items into small boxes, and now she watched the girl at her feet. She had tears in her eyes and a pray on her lips.

Miyabi recognized her. The girl from earlier that morning and now she begged openly. The servants had stopped chores to eye her.

What a fool she was to them, but they did not matter. Her grandmother had told her to stick with the lady and damn it if she was not going to try.

"Please, take me with you," she begged through sobs, her nose to the ground waiting. "I have nothing else here." And truthfully, she didn't.

Miyabi could only stare and though her face did not show emotion she was rather shocked. She could not even recall the girl's name. "With me?" She questioned her shifting her weight to the other foot. "I am to leave soon."

Gekido felt her heart fall to her feet. She could not stay here, not without Miyabi. "But my lady, I will be the best servant there." She inched closer to her feet, ready to kiss them if she had to. "I will serve you well."

Miyabi stared, considering her. She was beautiful and someone that could possibly take the lord's eye from her if deems necessary. After all, it was rumored that he always looked for new concubines. If she invited this girl to join her, she could possibly be what she needed to escape from time to time.

Itsuka, yes, she planned on taking her along without question, but this...this…Gekido. With a name such as that what is she capable of.

A smile crossed her face, unseen since she stepped into the palace this afternoon. Gekido may have been just what she was looking for.

_**---((()))---**_

****

_**Note**_

_**A monk's kesa sometimes reflects his rank or status. Needless to say, purple is the highest rank. Check it out at **__**http://www.asahi-net.or.jp/qm9t-kndu/buddhism.htm**_

_**Thank You for Reading**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Thanks LishaVilla-** You make me blush. Your words, along with other reviews are encouraging and for that alone, you have my thanks._

_**Chapter 8; Red Rubies **_

**_---((()))---_**

Tanaka had searched long and hard for power and satisfaction, but had failed. To give up one was to have another and nothing could appease the gluttonous brute that he was. He still looked for more, still yearned and never settled. His heart was in tangles of emotions that even he could not sort through.

And as he stood before his daughter, taking in the light scent of jasmine, he realized that he probably never would be fulfilled.

Tanaka could only stare at the woman. Her colorful kimono flourished like the blood that rushed through his veins and matched the lush color of her lips. On her head draped a matching scarf of Chinese Silk, he had bought months ago during an expedition. It cascaded around her face coming to rest on her shoulders.

So innocent, she was. Sweet and untouched, her eyes gleamed with fear and uncertainty.

All he had to do was say the word and she would have clung to him as a child. He would have cherished it, giving in to his desire to speak sweet words to her, and make her happy. Then he would have eventually worshipped her as he did her mother. She would love him truly, with a purity that only her heart seemed to hold for him. But for how long could he refrain from touching her? To refrain from truly loving the woman that she was becoming?

For the life of him, he needed her to go and never come near her father again. She was his pitfall.

In return, he would obtain power, in place of her love. It was right and proper in such a situation.

Yamato has power; he reminded himself, the power that he wanted. Tanaka dreamed of having such power to rule lands like Yamato. The power that Tanaka dreamed of. A breeze played with the sleeves of his kosode.

Why, he must have been a barbarian to her. He beat her, and tore her down, wanting to rid himself of the feelings that she inspired in him.

But he only needed to say the word and she would become just another woman of the village.

He turned his head with a slight shove to her shoulders. "Go Miyabi," he ordered her, breaking the serene silence the morning had brought. The sight of her was breathtaking, the smell of jasmine becoming overwhelming.

He was afraid if she stood too close she would hear his heartbeat, feel the heat that had begun to rise off the back of his neck.

If these so called gods existed, what cruel fate was this? He cursed in his mind, his body doing a full spin until the only thing that Miyabi could see was his broad back, embroidered in lovely designs. He had seen enough of her. Long goodbyes had never come easy to him and he never indulged something so sentimental. They were a waste.

"Remember this Miyabi if nothing else, "he warned, a frown upon his lips. "_Akusai wa hyaku-nen no fusaku.". _It was the only thing he could think to tell her. Such harsh words, they were at a time when all she wanted was to be missed.

Those had been his parting words and they played like a lullaby in her head as the carriage treaded through the uneven forest. A bad wife is a ruin of her husband. It sent shivers down her back. To think that she would have the responsibility of that man on her shoulders; his reputation and good name. What would he do to her if she did not perform her duty well in his eyes?

Her fingers knotted in her lap and she gazed out the window towards her father's dwellings.

She wondered if she would ever return or if she was doomed to never see her home again.

It brought tears to her eyes to understand that her father no longer wanted her there. She had been up most of the night in thought. Memories of running naked through the woods would pass in and out of view and she couldn't help, but question if nothing else why her father had not come to get her as he had when she disappeared after the monk. Then it all came in blunt plain words that made too much sense, pointed her so close to the truth. Plain and simple, the truth hurt.

He did not want her there and had only preserved her for Lord Yamato. He wanted power and that was all. She was nothing to him and now the only one with any thoughts for her was her new lord, Oda Yamato.

For the tenth time that morning, she promised to give herself to him and felt guilty when she recalled her thoughts of the little slave girl that had so thrown herself to her hands and knees begging to travel with her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had to care for her if he decided to take her hand.

She eyed him out of the small window. He rode upon his prized horse, his back straight and proud. She wondered if he would ever let her ride again.

Blinking back what terror she had of him, she shifted her weight in her seat, vowing to keep quite for the time being. She really did not want to say anything, lest he hear her and ask questions.

Across from her sat Gekido with tears in her eyes. Miyabi did not understand the girl nor did she care to at that moment. She had been crying since the carriage pulled away from Tanaka's home. Her eyes hazed as she stared out of the window at a plot of land not to far from linen hanging in the fields.

Men stood around leaning upon shoves, whispering amongst themselves, and waiting for something or someone. A huge mount of dirt had been pushed to the side.

It took a while for Miyabi to realize that they were burying someone. Perhaps, it was someone that she knew.

"Hum," she signed folding her hand across her lap admiring the newly made kimono that decorated her features. Red was her favorite color and from what she could remember it was her mother's as well. It made her feel special as if she and the woman had some type of connection.

Absentmindedly, she had begun biting her lip, chewing at it as though food.

"Do you think the lord would like that?" Itsuka whispered leaning close to her ear. On her face was a pasted smile something that Miyabi naïvely believed. No matter how much mirth she put into her words, she honestly meant them as a spiteful intent.

If the lord heard her, for sure he would peek in on them and find his lady acting like a child. She had become nothing, but rivalry. With her ignorant ways, she would not know what was really going on until it was too late and Itsuka laughed at that, fed off of that.

It was the same for the cry baby that sat across from them, facing Miyabi, Gekido. Itsuka frowned at her though she had not paid her any attention since the caravan started its departure.

Damn, why would she come anyway? It made absolutely no common sense. She had nothing where they were going. In truth, she was a threat. Not as naïve as Miyabi, but just as beautiful. She smirked rolling her eyes as she turned to stare out of the window.

It didn't matter. She was Itsuka, the one that the men loved. They spoke sweet words to her, touched her, and proclaimed deep feelings for her. Damn it, she was Itsuka!

'I love you,' that was what he said to her.

Mushin. She was starting to hate the thought of that man. Her heart dropped as it had when she was in the storage closet.

'I will return with money for your freedom from this place.'

"Hmm," she sighed resting her chin in her hand turning to the small window on her side of the cabin.

And what if he did return? She would be a lady, or something similar and nothing could stop that. She wanted the glamour, the fame, and she wanted that man that rode so proudly on his new steed beside the carriage.

God, he had everything. She smiled watching autumn colors blur as the carriage speed through the forest. By the time Mushin returned, she would be well taken care of and that was something that he could never provide.

Better times were ahead for her.

_**---((()))---**_

If Tenrai could have seen Tanaka at that very moment, he would have laughed. He imagined that old bag searching his cabinets frantically for the missing bottle of sake that had been consumed hours before. Cursing the high heavens and screaming at unreliable servants that he deemed stupid.

It really did not matter, he was smiling anyway. Miyabi had lain on her stomach, understandably tired. The trio had traveled all night and had gotten further than planned. The bottle of sake had lasted and Tenrai was elated.

Mushin had propped himself against a withering tree. His body was in dire need of rest. Slowly, he slid to the ground with the disposition of a drunken man. As his bottom hit the plot of dirt, he laughed.

"It would not be that hard on you if you would just ride Miyabi," Tenrai smiled sprawled out on Miyabi's back, though she laid sleep.

Mushin turned staring at him most accusingly. "I will never ride on that thing." He lifted a warning finger towards her. "It is a demon. I care not what you say."

Tenrai rolled his eyes, the grin not leaving his face. "I beg your pardon." He patted her sleeping head. "She is, but a fine lady. Isn't that right, Miyabi?" He laughed was an imitation and a failed one. His steps had been lagging behind his friend even though he rode a horse with as much power as Miyabi.

Mushin had noticed. Every now and again he would sneak a glace at his friend and concern would maim his features. Tenrai was dazed staring back over his shoulders as though he had left something behind. Mushin, of all people knew what bothered his friend so and it had stared to bother him as well.

With a stern expression through his tipsy stupor, he gazed at his friend. Tenrai had laid his head down on Miyabi's back and stared off into the distance with the expression of a hopeless child. It was the same one that he had when Mushin found him hidden behind a small rose bush in his mother's garden. His father had been gone for a few days and he was inconsolable.

Mushin had not known what to say to him then and he didn't know now. The only thing he knew was to either spit it out or shut up. With a careful eye on the horse, he chose the first. "Do you want to go back and find him?"

The tension that overtook Tenrai body made Miyabi quiver in her sleep. A tender hand raked slowly through her mane until he was sure she was once again in a peaceful sleep before he spoke. "I don't think he is back there."

Silence.

Once again Mushin knew not what to say. How do you console a man such as Tenrai? He had tried once to hug the young boy and he raged into a fit, throwing his fist and kicking little feet at him as though he were the devil himself.

He looked away, uncertain if anything needed to be said.

It was Tenrai who spoke. His voice was a distance murmur and Mushin strained to hear it. "I have trained all my life to become a priest of status. I can sense a miasma further than most and I sense nothing here."

It would drive a normal man insane. Tenrai knew this. Many times, he wondered what kept him from insanities grip. How could one demon be so illusive, so untouchable? It was beyond anything that Tenrai had faced before and it was the one thing that he longed to face. He longed to know that the curse was merely a dream.

Then he could truly be happy.

Until that time, he would continue to fall into helpless depression. It was irrepressible. Thoughts of the life that he had missed as well as the things that he feared caused him great sorrow.

He sighed in an attempt to regain himself. His eyes gazing at everything, but at the same time nothing.

"I understand," Mushin replied resting his head against the bark of the tree. Nothing had ever felt as good. He could feel himself dozing even as he waited for Tenrai's next words and they never came.

Tenrai frowned when the sound of snoring played in the wind. Lifting his head for a moment, he gazed at his friend through what was becoming a pounding headache. A hangover was afoot. Mushin's head had slum and his legs spread out before him.

"Hmm," he smirked noticing the morning sunshine glistening so clear off of his lowered head. That familiarity was welcoming and his smirked turned to a grin. "Nope, Miyabi," he whispered lowering his head to rest. "I'll never go bald."

_**---((()))---**_

There was a woman in the road. Her feet were bare and aching. A cluster of thoughts bombarded her mind as she kneeled squeezing the small bundle closer to her chest. A stifling cough tickled her tongue. The autumn air had started to bring a chill to her throat.

She had heard the carriage wheels a few miles down the road and wondered if maybe someone had followed her from her parents home, decided that they would return her to where she belonged. So she ran until she could no longer hear the squeak of wood and metal. When she slowed her steps, the bundle on her right would heave and give a small whine until she could once again comfort him and let him know that, yes, mother was there.

Relief would wash over her, until she once again heard the carriage wheels. And even as fatigue would bring about a heavy feeling in her legs, she denied all of that and proceeded to run.

This continued until she could no longer lift her feet and instead fell to her knees and waited. Her little one started to cry then, screaming at the top of his lungs as if like her, he sensed the danger that she was sure approached her.

Miyabi caught sight of her first. Her kimono, a lovely shade of green, stood out amongst the autumn colored forest. It was curious, the way she sat there waiting, her head lowered to the ground. Her arms wrapped around a small heap of blankets. It only took a moment for Miyabi to realize that the bunch of material held something precious.

The old Miyabi would have called out, but this one was apprehensive. She sat quietly, her eyes drifting from soldier to soldier, coming to a stop on her lord. His weight shifted in his saddle, uncomfortable as he glared straight ahead. He had noticed the woman too.

It was Lord Yamato's weakness, he supposed. He had laid eyes on the woman, a mile down the road and was shocked when she fell to her knees. Her robes were of expensive taste and her hair was glossy under the morning sun. Even the bundle in her arms was in tatters of beautiful rich silk. More importantly, she was poised. Even in such an unladylike position, she held an air of maturity that sparked his attention.

With a lift of his hand, the reins on the carriage horses pulled, bringing the entire convoy to a halt. Making sure to keep a safe distance from the woman, lest she run away again, he dismounted his horse.

Approaching her with the smile of a gentleman, he could have been called dashing. "You there," he beckoned her attention. Even his voice was soft, lacking the harsh edges that he spoke with last night and from the window of the small wagon, Miyabi noticed.

She narrowed her eyes. The sight of the woman and her lord could plainly be seen through her window.

How she had brought this out of him, she did not know, nor did she understand why he dismounted from his horse to approach her. With a hand as gentle as her mother's had been, he reached for the woman, smiling like Cheshire cat and as dignified as the emperor. In all honesty, he look absolutely stunning and Miyabi could for the first time see why any woman would fall for such a man.

The woman calmed her pounding heart before looking at him and once she did, Yamato seemed taken back by her. She was royalty that was easy enough to tell, but she was beautiful.

Her lips curved into a cherry colored smile to match the line above her eyelashes. Her hazel colored eyes seemed genuinely relieved as she placed her hand in his to lift to her feet.

"May I ask where you are going?" Yamato pried and she did not seem to mind nor pay attention to the fact that he had not let go of her hand. "Maybe we can help you along your way?"

She cleared her throat before speaking. Life had not groomed her to be a fool. She knew an aristocrat when she saw him and this man was just that. He looked dreamy to her. Not the prettiest she'd seen, but the most dazzling. "Thank you, my lord."

His eyes never left her face and she was glad that they did not. Her baby was sick and she had no intention of introducing him to this man, lest he be intimidated by his illness.

"My name is Aibo. I am traveling to the next town. My husband waits there for me." She saw the sparkle leave his eye and hoped her words had not been too hasty. His offer was just what she had been hoping for and she did not wish to lose it.

Logically, his heart fell, but he did not show it if only to bask in her company a little longer. "I am Lord Oda Yamato." He said his name so boldly it brought stars to her eyes.

"Lord Yamato," she reiterated with familiarity and recognition. Who did not know of the famous Yamato? His name had been on the lips of the most prominent figures in the land.

"Yes," he smiled.

"I have heard stories of you." The bundle switched to the other hip.

Miyabi stared. Itsuka stretched her neck to peer out. She had to get a peek of the woman who had her lord's attention. They were like curious children. She was older than they were and much more distinguished. To Miyabi, she was a wonder to watch. She danced when she walked and every time she smiled at the lord, his face lit up like a candle.

However, Itsuka hated her before she saw her face. What sort of a woman talked to her lord like this? Trash, she called her, just a common street whore! Itsuka straightened herself when she saw that they approached the carriage. She would not have herself looking distraught when the lord saw her.

The door of the cabin gave way with a grunt and there she stood with a smile and a baby at her hip. Her kimono hung loosely over her right shoulder, drifting to her elbow. Underneath, another kimono of rich color embraced her arm clashing with her pale skin beautifully. Her hair placed in some sort of concoction leaving a short ponytail on the back of her head and neatly done bangs across her face.

She climbed in careful not to harm her baby, while he in turn closed his eyes cuddling up to her. Yamato's sights were so enthralled with the woman that he failed to notice the way Itsuka smiled at him and that in itself was too much to stand.

If she had seen the daggers that Itsuka shot across the cabin she paid it no attention. Well poised and gentle movements caught Gekido's eye and for a moment she was more captivating than even the Lady Miyabi. She rested the child in her lap and it curled into her as if an attachment. Her expression relaxed and Yamato closed the door.

"Who are you?" The first words were Itsuka and if she had not known better the woman would have thought that she was indeed the one of status between the three of them, but she could see clearly that the bright red kimono in the far corner was sewn with a little more care than the others, had a little more embellishment than most.

She said nothing to Itsuka.

Slowly, the convoy began to roll again. The woman sighed, the loudest noise in the small space and rubbed the child's head still covered in the blanket.

"Did you not hear me?" Itsuka enforced her rule, folding her arms before her. Her two companions stopped ogling at the woman to shot her looks of disbelief.

The woman took on an air of royalty destine to put the girl in her place. With the look of the mother that Istuka had long forgotten, she cocked a brow and spoke, "when is it proper for a servant to demand a lady's name?"

How dare she?!! If Itsuka could have said something back to her she would have, but she knew her place and it was not beyond those words.

"I expect that from your mistress." With a nod of her head, she smiled at Miyabi, sun glistening off her jade colored earrings. Each of the five adjoining beads cast small shadows of the sun on her neck. She stared at the young woman, she could see her slight uncertainty and it was amusing.

She had been in her position at one point in her life, but now the memories had faded with time and she could only recall bits and pieces that no longer held any relevance.

Miyabi nodded back at the lady, captivated by her smile. The woman reminded her of the kagura dancers that her father had once allowed her see as they passed through her village and she had been captivated by them as well. But this woman was so elegant and exquisite, even her movements held a sense of refinement.

"You look afraid," her first words caught Miyabi off guard.

Was it that obvious?

She shifted in her small corner. The woman's attention made her feel important which was something that she had not gotten use to. "I am to become a lady." She tried to smile back, but it was broken and bent and she still appeared as a helpless child.

The woman was not dumb and it was easy to tell where such a fear came from. "It is something you grow into my dear." The words intended to spread comfort to the Miyabi, did little to nothing. "Lady Yamato, I presume."

The words brought about that familiar dread in Miyabi's eyes, but she did not speak.

"Well," she turned to the child that lay in her lap. He had calmed down. That was a good sign. "I am Lady Kagewaki and this-" With the soothing hand of a mother, she tugged at the fabrics covering the huge mass in her lap. Rich colors of blue, green and, red slipped from sight, revealing a small creamy face.

Gasp rang out like a chorus of wind.

He lay asleep, but the slight creases between his brows begged to be left alone. Black strips of hair fanned about his head, touching the thin brow that had begun to wiggle in response. A whine murmured from his small pink lips and slowly, he began to squirm. The light invading his candy coated dreams.

The three girls leaned in towards the baby, heads so close they could touch.

"Prince Kagewaki Hitomi," she announced his name with a sense of gratification. After the struggles of trying to have a child, he had become her pride and joy. "His father will be proud to hold him."

Neither of the girls cared enough to pay attention, the small round dumpling shaped head gathering all of their consideration. A hand to small to be held shot out of the covers, connected to a chubby arm.

Gradually, the child came alive. Small arms continued to stretch while the tiny body wiggled like a worm between restricting fabrics then when all eagerness set in, his eyes opened leisurely as though nothing mattered.

Miyabi drew away.

Gekido gazed at Lady Kagewaki, questioning if what she saw was real, while Itsuka sat up straight and proper realizing how ridiculous they all must have looked.

Like rubies, his eyes glistened red and stared at Miyabi with the demeanor of a much older man. They were the brightest pair of eyes she had ever seen. They were so round and distant as though they belonged to someone with more wisdom than that of a child.

"His eyes," she gasped unknowingly and regretted it by blushing pink.

The lady sighed, a smile still on her face. "He was a sickly child at birth. After the struggle to have him, it was no wonder. He went through a horrible fever, but when he survived, he opened his eyes and they were that color, but only for a moment." Lady Kagewaki giggled and as said those red orbs melted into a hue of black.

If Miyabi had not seen it for her own eyes she would not have believed it. It was absolutely fascinating.

But Gekido inched away. Her reaction went unnoticed. The vibes she drew from the child were frightening and brought a sense of anguish to her belly.

"Yes," the lady continued. "But he is a fighter and will remain strong." She rubbed his head absentmindedly and the child eyes closed once again in ecstasy. His mother's hands were heavenly as he laid his head down to return to his dreams.

Lady Kagewaki smiled loving the feeling of the warmth of her child on her legs. She was a mother finally, with the true love and protection of a mother. In her heart, she swore to protect him to the death and that was what she wanted to do. And that was why she ran.

But that was her secret wasn't it. How dare they say a demon possessed her child? He had been sick and that had been the reason his beautiful eyes had hazed red. It was a blood condition and she refused to believe anything else. But the words of the priest never left her.

A demon had taken hold of the boy and that was the only reason he survived, but as the boy ages the demon would grow in strength and one day live to kill him. Taking hold of the child was the best and only way the demon could have lived. It had gotten weak and needed an able body and some place to hide.

That was not true and even if it was, she had finally become a mother. And she wanted to be. Nothing could change that and now she and her husband could be happy together.

There was an awkward silence then and each person took a moment of breath. The only thing that could be heard was the small ruffling of fabric as the little child stretched and bent his small limbs. Squirming awkwardly, a snivel escaped his small frame, ordering attention from his mother.

His mother smiled gently, giving only the slightest laugh as she lifted the child placing him of his bottom, giving him a look at the world that surrounded him. Sure enough his eyes widened to capacity eager to find the owner's of the voices that had woke him. His eyes, once again, stopped on Miyabi.

"He seems to like you," Lady Kagewaki told her.

Miyabi returned the young child's stare unable to break away. His eyes were breathtaking as though he was more than just the infant before her and she saw again a flicker of red in his orbs, but she ignored it. As ignorant as his mother, she excused it for nothing more than a side effect of his illness. If only his eyes would stop reading her soul?

The intently looking child continued to sit still watching Miyabi as though she held something that he could not place a finger on and if it was not for his infant form he would have told her that she bothered him. She had met someone of his past, someone who he had avoided. That someone was drawing to close to him, but he would stay in the infant until he had once again regained his strength. Until then, he would rest. He had not thought beyond that.

The squeak of the carriage wheels halting jarred the boy's attention and he felt relieved to rid himself of this woman. He no longer wanted such a person in his sight, though he had a fondness for Lord Yamato.

"Lady Kagewaki," her name rolled from his lips as he personally opened the doors of the carriage. Miyabi had not had that luxury. He held his hand out for her again with a cheese of a smile on his face.

Miyabi could only watch in awe as the man said to be her husband escorted the woman from the cabin and onto the dirt trail leading to a village not to far away. He whispered a few words into her ear and brought a smile to her face. She thanked him with a low bow holding her baby close to her chest and was on her way, holding on tightly to the child with the red ruby eyes.

_**---((()))---**_

Tenrai could have cried if the tipsy edge of sake had not left his mind cloudly.

How dare he treat her with such disrespect?

He watched the hefty man swing his leg over Miyabi's back and saw her bulk under his weight trying to adjust to such a heavy change. She did almost effortlessly.

He gripped the heavy sack tighter, reminding himself of why he had obtained the horse in the first place. He turned back to Mushin, perched against another tree still tired from the long walk.

How could the world be so cruel?

"That is all monk," the man wheezed between bouts of breath, sending Tenrai away from his farm promptly. He did not want to waste time and with a horse like Miyabi he was eager to show the town what he had acquired. Oh, the jealousy she would raise.

Tenrai barely bent his body for a departing bow. He decided early that he was not fond of the man. He reminded him of Tanaka.

Speaking of which, he wondered how his daughter was doing.

Mushin shifted his weight and the crunching of dry leaves beneath his foot reminded Tenrai of his surroundings. "We have almost reached the temple. Let us not stop here."

That was a lot, coming from the man who could barely keep his eyes open.

Tenrai nodded with a smile, his head still turned to watch Miyabi disappear with her new master. He hated to admit his attachment toward the animal. He was sure it stemmed from childhood issue he had yet to resolve.

He closed his eyes, taking a moment to listen to his own breath. It was calming, his personal form of meditation.

"Tenrai!" Mushin's voice broke into his peaceful concentration. He had left him behind again.

Tenrai broke into a wanton grin and jiggled the bag at his side as he skipped, jumped, and jogged to catch his companion.

"So, what did he give you?" Mushin smiled noticing his friend start to dig through his reward. Rather selfishly, Mushin took note.

Vigilantly, Tenrai pulled his wondering hand out of the small cloth sack. From his bald fist, he split his reward. Something as rare as this was a treasure and Tenrai would spend it well.

The dazzling little jewels caught Mushin's eye and he was taken back.

"Rubies?"

_**---((()))---**_

_**Words that may help**_

_**Aibo**__**- **__attachment; __adoration_

_**Hitomi**__**- **__the human body; __one's person_

_**Note**_

"_**Akusai wa hyaku-nen no fusaku"- **Japanese quote - literally: A bad wife spells a hundred years of bad harvest: Meaning: A bad wife is a ruin of her husband._

_**Thanks Bastion**_

_**Disclaimer: **_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by_ _Rumiko Takahashi_. _Thus, I do own some of the character placed in this story._

_**Thanks for reading**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Thanks for the review Chevy Nova;**__ I appreciate it._

_**Chapter 9; Encounter**_

_**---((()))---**_

Grassy plains gently bent into one another while sloping hills formed small streams, and they one by one fell into deep valleys adorned with autumn flowers. These were Lord Yamato's lands.

It was not hard to tell with the way his arrogance seemed to swell, but he was a man that had fought, schemed, and conned to get everything that he had and he deserved it all. Staring at the vast hills and valleys before him, made him proud of what he had done.

His palace was towards the west amidst a militant town consisting of his men and their families. For the protection of his property, he had a wall built encasing the town itself and the people could not have been more thankful for a lord such as him. Strict and callous, he was their savior. A man who protected his lands and everything that they held.

With a word from his lips and a lift of his sword, the walls parted to let the Warlord through. The caravan trailed behind him and bystanders bought into the curiosity, watching the foreign carriage trail their lord. Quite words were shared between them, speculating who it could be.

Miyabi stayed hidden along with her servants. Yamato had ordered them to remain unseen. He wanted her polished and poised when she made her introduction to her new court. Yet she could not help the interest that caused her to stir uncomfortably in her seat. She would gaze from Itsuka to Gekido and back again, and the two women were no more at ease.

At the halt of the convoy, she nearly leaped from her seat. She shifted regaining what little composer she could muster. To her the lord's world was unrealistic, even more so when she stepped from the carriage onto the solid ground of cobblestone. His home towered before her.

Miraculous was the word use to describe it. It's colossal form intricate with details from hands of diligent men. It was not hard to tell it must have taken years to create such a work of art.

Three wings only separated by inches of courtyard stretched to the sky above. The place she had only dreamed of, the white walls seemed as though impenetrable, for the safety of his people they were enforced from the inside. No more was the reeded roof tops that she had come to know. Now, they were gently slopping, each shingle perfectly fit into place forming picturesque patterns.

Four floors in the first tower and that was the tower in which she was to dwell. The second tower only held two floors. The servant quarters on top and a few of the soldiers nestled at the bottom. The third was merely a store house that held the year's worth of rice and barley.

All of this rested in the courtyards. Beautifully decorated in autumn blooming flowers, the trees were trimmed, and the grass was evenly cut. Cobblestone walkways danced configurations from the front gate to the doors of her new home; lest there be anyone who maimed the grass, but the gardener.

And Miyabi had not felt more alone. Around her servants decorated beyond what she had become accustom to, began hustling and at the words of Yamato, she was wisped away to wash and change. Gekido and Itsuka vanished in the turmoil.

She bathed in tubs of ivory and dressed in a wardrobe room that held kimonos made out of some of the loveliest material that ever touched her skin. Servant women even combed her hair into a bun on the back of her head lacing it with ribbons and combs of jade. Those same women doused her face in powder, decorated her eyes and colored her lips in red. And when they were done, they marveled at their own work.

With small delightful little steps they lead her down the wide isles of corridors where servants dusted. Each halting to lay eyes on their new and improved lady-to-be. In all the attention, Miyabi felt a miserable loneliness and when she stopped before the doors of Yamato's whereabouts, she would have ran the distance home, but the doors parted before she could gain her footing.

Books hung from shelves, maps spread about the floor, it looked like a study of some sort, but it was not nearly as neat as her father's nor was it as small. Lord Yamato stood at the corner window gazing out into his lands, his mind shifting between the woman who had just entered his palace and the woman that would become his wife.

At fist sight of her, he was honestly surprised. She had cleaned up quiet nicely. Her look was as graceful as the woman they had met in the road and just as divine. Even the unruly head of hair fell into place.

His servants had done their jobs and done it well. Nothing was more attractive than a lady of royalty and for a moment she exhumed that. Until, she tucked her bottom lip into between her teeth and bit down. She was Miyabi-Chan all over again.

He frowned, the appreciative glare gone from his eyes and he wondered how long he would have to deal with her childish ways before he could change her. The next years of her life, he had them planned as easily as putting ink to paper and when it was all over, he would have the woman in which he wanted or to the streets with her.

In neat, bold characters, he had summoned the unsurpassed teachers. Those that could train her and cultivate her into the woman that he wanted without fail. He needed results with Miyabi and while she still had a will of her own, she was useless.

_**---((()))---**_

Tenrai had no interest in the eastern temple. If it was up to him he would simply forget where it was. At least, that was what he would tell those of the southern temple when he arrived days early than expected.

However one of the best cities Tenrai had ever seen rested only a short distance from the eastern temple and how he could deter Mushin had not, yet crossed his mind. The soldiers there got drunk on some of the best sake in the lands and had sex with some of the best looking women. Tenrai recognized a few by name and they in return recognized him. He had gotten food, drink, and other trivial things that they gave freely relying on the lord they served to support them and their habits.

He seemed to treat them as well as any other and they served him with ease.

Maybe, I should join his samurai, he amused himself. He knew that there was no way he could find comfort in the consistent killing of his fellow man for the love of a lord that had no real interest in him. Probably would not even bother to learn his name.

But what a good provider he was.

Shuffling over the fallen leaves and rocks beneath his feet, he contemplated a number of options, none which made sense to do, but everything was worth a shot. Thus, he went with the most practical action. Turning to Mushin, who had begun the lag behind, thoughts of Itsuka cluttering his mind.

He finally looked serene. After a moment or two of being sober he had begun to notice Tenrai's missing kesa again and voicing his concern, the vein about his forehead bulged all the way to the back of his head.

But while everything seemed silent Tenrai wanted to take his chances and push his luck.

A loud sign escaped his throat and with a melodramatic gesture, he stretched his hands to the sky, "I feel a little tired, my friend. It may be of benefit if we stopped and rested a moment before going to the temple. I wish to look my best for the priest there." It was not a blatant lie, but an over exaggerate truth.

Mushin broke from his reverie of the lovely woman he adored and glared at Tenrai with a questioning lift of his brow. He was not dim. Tenrai wanted to stop in the city and fool around, which was most unreasonable considering that they were only a mile and a half away from their destination. There they could rest and have drinks, and fellowship with their counterparts.

Then again what was it to enjoy their time, besides one more day would make none the difference? They were days early in their travels. Though why give Tenrai the pleasure. After all, Mushin was not finish with the matter of the missing kesa.

"We can make it to the temple." Mushin turned his head not to meet the eye of a highly dissatisfied man.

Disappointed, but optimistic, Tenrai was not one to easily give up. "Hum. "

If not for the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Tenrai would have continued, but the bend in his black garb silenced him. His right index finger started to twitch like it had many times before.

Something was in the air. And it seemed to beckon him, smothering him. His back straightened, standing the man to his full length, his eyes scrutinizing the area with a careful glare. He had felt this way before.

Waves and waves of nausea built up in his chest unsteadying his feet. It was a miserable feeling, but Tenrai had become use to the stir in his belly. The first time he ever felt it, he could not keep his supper from rising in his throat, but years of training had made him proficient in these sorts of things. His teachers had made sure of it.

A loosely hanging strand of hair tickled the bridge of his nose as the slow incoming breeze picked up whispering words all about the forest floors. Foreboding and direct, Tenrai listened to the hallow sound it made, the quite sinful way it swept the ground, building about his feet.

Mushin could only stare at Tenrai. He remembered that look, the stiffness in the man's back. Tenrai sensed something in the distance. He , on the other hand, had not trained himself to feel such things and had no care in them. He did not plan to be a monk forever after all.

As for Tenrai the thick and tainted air was troubling. Something about it was familiar, yet something he could not place. The miasma that cloaked the grounds of the forest brought back hurtful, angry thoughts that he had worked so hard to push away.

Before he could wrap his mind around the situation, Tenrai had begun a stride through the trees. Everything about this feeling was malevolent, but proverbial.

So engulfed in feelings, he failed to hear Mushin's calls or curses when he realized that he was not catching his friend without a long stride. The chubby little man was not cut out for this and he had no bones about letting Tenrai know. The man had become as fast as the demons that were sure to emerge as soon as the sun touched the top of the mountainside.

"Tenrai, damn it!" he called, but it was a useless, irritating effort that Mushin eventual gave up on. His robe had begun to get in his way and he had no intention of falling in the dirt for a man who had left him without as much as a word.

Mushin halted and stared after his friend. There was no catching him and it did not bother the older man at all. They would meet up again. After all, he was the only one that could fix the wind tunnel. Straightening his resolve, Mushin turned on his heels, returning to the path that would lead to the temple.

_**---((()))---**_

It was the burning in his lungs that forced him to take in extra air; the ache in his ankle begging him to stop that slowed him down and still he was not slow enough for a normal human to catch him. Even the branches and shrubbery tapping his cheeks could not stop him.

What he felt and what he knew had started to come together piece by piece. Somewhere close by, he was waiting, lurking around a corner. Tenrai could catch, kill him, and live.

The very thought quickened the beat of his heart.

Naraku. He was out there. He had to be.

"Just has to," Tenrai repeated to himself.

He had learned time and time again that there were no guarantees that once the source of this feel was found it would be Naraku. The demon had been so evasive that his very existence was in question. But god the hope…

The hope kept his feet pounding the ground, made the aches in his legs nothing, and made his past trails and errors have value. So, he forced his body to move, no longer the youngster he use to be in his teens.

It was close now. So close that the sensations were becoming overwhelming, making him feel as though it were his first time rummaging for a demon.

"Do not stop," he begged his legs as they threatened to give way beneath him. He was not sure how far he had ran, or how off course he was, but he knew that he was getting closer to what he wanted.

A new wave of determination hit him as visions of a small fort town came into distance and from that town the miasma expelled, bleeding from the front gates. And the source lay in the arms of a woman.

Her back was turned to him as she stood before the wooden entrance of the village. A smile grazed her face and she spoke quiet words to her child, no longer the calm being he had been for the remainder of her walk. Fully uniformed Samurai stood at her side. Each held perplexed looks on their faces and swords at their sides.

They were the first to see the monk coming over the hill with speed they had never witnessed. They questioned mutely if he was a demon as they shoved the woman and her child through the gates for protection.

In her arms, the child was going fanatic. The approaching monk frayed on its nerves and the demon inside was in panic.

The last thing that he desired was to show what he was. To reveal himself he would need to emerge from the child and that in return would kill the baby. At the moment, they shared a life and it was that life that allowed him to maintain in these weak times.

There was only one way out of all off this and she stood clutching him between her forearms and her chest, still whispering calming words.

Tenrai nearly ran through the guards and if they had not been bolted down by samurai uniforms they would not have been able to stand up to him. For he was like a mad man, with no knowledge of how he look, nor with a care.

In the velocity of wind, he had lost the band that held his hair and it draped uncombed, caging his handsome face. His robes had been ripped on tree limbs and shrubbery that he failed to notice. Still, his mind was sharp and alerted to his surrounding. His eyes immediately went to the woman and her child.

The wail that the baby gave grinded on his nerves as though someone had taken an axe to his head. It was abnormal and if the humans before him had listened, they too would have admitted it. Tenrai had taken their attention and they stood before him in an instant blocking his way into their military fort.

"You there," The tallest of them dared to speak first. He took a step forward, hand on his sword for a warning. Tenrai did not perceive it as such and wanted not to be stopped. Irrationally, he pushed pass the man, with a force that the soldier had not been ready for, knocking him to the ground. And as though the other soldier were paper, he was easily shoved from his post and out of Tenrai's way.

"That baby," he spoke to no one particularly. His eyes narrowed at the woman, questioning what she was to possess such a child. The thing radiated heavy miasma, thick and damn near unbreathable from the blanket. Could she not see it, feel it?

It was gradually becoming nauseating with each breath. Tenrai lifted the wide sleeve of his robe covering his nose, but only for a momentary relief. "Ma'am, your baby."

Lady Kagewaki turned up her nose in disrespect. In the back of her mind, she could hear the words of the priest. '_The boy holds a demon in him.'_

If the people of the fortress were to find out then he would be lose his life, and this man, this nobody had come out of the nowhere pointing and accusing her child, putting him to death. She would not have it.

"He is after my child!" She screamed to the top of her lungs knowing that once the soldiers heard her words they would give their very lives to protect their prince. Her loving husband would have it no other way.

Tenrai gazed at her through angered eyes.

She knew that she carried a demon in her arms.

He had not even told her why he had repeated those words to her and yet she screamed for help before he could explain. It was maddening.

"It is a demon!" he called to her taking a malicious approach towards her, a hand buried inside his sleeves. His fingers had started moving back and forth on the ofuda paper, eager to place it on the infants head and clean him of this impending danger. "You know, don't you?"

The question shot through her with the precision of an arrow. _'You know, don't you?'_ She tightened her grip on the child, turning her body to place him out of harms way, but it wasn't enough to stop Tenrai as he stood before her.

He reached out for the child with a trembling hand. Only fingertips were able to graze the tip of the child's forehead before he pulled away taking the blanket away from its face. His proof was there. The child glared at him with those same menacing red eyes rooted in his memory. They stared at him through the opening of the forest, the morning he stood alone beside the carter where his father had once been.

_An infant was all he was,_ Tenrai forced himself to come to the realization that his father had been taken down by something that could possess a child. Deplorable.

"Possessed," he whispered on his breath before the collar on his kosode tighten around his neck forcing him back, away from his prey, and to the ground.

"You will die before laying a hand on the heir of our lord." The voice was that of the soldier at the gate. He had regained what it took to confront Tenrai and now he was more than ready. His sword had been drawn. He held it loosely in his right hand and had jerk Tenrai's collar with the other.

Tenrai lifted himself from the ground. His fortitude was set and he refused to be stopped from his goal. Naraku lay only inches away and the world wanted to stop him. "The child is a demon. " Steadying himself on his feet, he stared ahead where soldiers had started to appear before the woman blocking his way once again. Each held weapons of protection before them.

"Will you people not see what you protect?!" This was outrageous! Tenrai wanted to charge all of them but with no weapons, his only source was the wind tunnel and he had made a promise to his father and the memory of his mother. Never would he suck humans into the abyss. Most humans after all, were clueless in their actions.

Yet after coming so close, he would not willing give up.

Naraku grew anxious. The child needed a diversion, something that could catch them all off guard. So, that he could escape. From the tip of his blanket he could see the monk, Miyatsu. Foolish of him to come here. But he had not come without doing his damage. The brush of his fingertips over the baby's forehead burned to high hell. So he screamed in the woman's arms as she ran for cover through the courtyard of the fortress and into the arms of a lord that stood waiting.

"What is it, my love?" His voice was easy like the drip of honey and the child decided he immediately liked him. The demon inside did not.

"He is after the prince!" She huffed pressing the child into the armor of a man who had fought his fare share of war.

Lord Kagewaki gripped the hilt of his sword, taking no time to examine his child for the first time. He was a man who had learned to throw his power around. He sipped hot tea and watched his men fight a dying war, but he was a tactical man and had proven himself many times over when in command.

Just as any other lord, he hated to be tested, his power questioned and thus he would not be at peace until the man that hunted his son was dead.

With heavy strides, he approached the scene, giving a watchful eye to the man who chattered vigorously to the on looking soldiers. Crazed was what he was. Drawing a thin curved blade from his side, his stride turned into a light jog, picking up speed. He wanted his head for posing a threat to his family; highly inexcusable.

Tenrai felt the danger before it hit and with the grace of a gazelle he ducked and leaped away from the streak of sliver that danced above his head. When he turned to face his enemy, he was not at all surprised at the display of highly expensive armor decorating his chest.

_A lord_, he acknowledged in his head before he took notice of the man's fight stands.

The lord was beyond listening to his reasoning.

"You pose a threat to the safety of my son," he announced, giving sentence to the younger man.

"Your son poses a threat to you and your fortress," Tenrai corrected him lifting a brow, readying himself for the attack that was sure to come.

"I am Lord Kagewaki and I sentence you to death for treason on my lands."

Tenrai stared idly at the Lord. The tall slender man before him was authority, but Tenrai frowned and disregarded him. "I am Miyatsu, a monk. Your lands are tainted."

The corners of Lord Kagewaki's mouth turned upward no concerned in Tenrai's position. "What proof do you have of your so-called-monk status? Where is your kesa? Your staff?" His taut was nothing, but informative.

Tenrai taking his words into consideration had a slow dawning of how plain and crazed he must look to the men. After all, he was just a man in a black tattered robe and strains of hair about his head, raving in the middle of a fortress courtyard.

"Prepare, Miyatsu," the lord spit his name like venom from his lips. "I will take you from this life and may you find peace in the next." And with the sound of the heavy boots on the stone ground, he charged the perceived threat.

If not for the sickening miasma, Tenrai would have easily pushed through the lord with skillful moves, but all he could do was maneuver himself to avoid quick thrust and heavy slashes with an unsteady blade. The lord was not that skillful in battle. His slender frame did not carry enough power to uphold a true battle with a man of Tenrai's statue and with a mishap swinging of his sword it was becoming obvious as Tenrai ducked his head, watching the tip of the man's blade cut through air.

How he had become the power that he was was at question as Tenrai lowered himself in one quick motion. Proficiently, he swipe his legs underneath the man, connecting and taking him to the ground. "I wish not to fight you." His words were genuine and if the man had stopped to think them over, he would have seen that his fight was not with Tenrai.

Soldiers stood all about them watching and waiting for the moment to strike when Tenrai laid a blow to their lord, for it was he who supplied them with what they needed. None to bright enough to realize that the true source of his influence stood about watching the impending fight.

Tenrai stood. His eyes gazing from the man to the last place he had seen that woman. With a slow and steady voice he called out to him, "Naraku!" His shouts echoed off the high walls of the fortress and was heard by its intended ear.

Irritating was what he was and Naraku shivered in the woman's arms.

If only the burning could stop.

His forehead was on fire and he had no way of healing it without his true nature revealing itself to the woman. He was sure from her delicate disposition that she would not be able to handle what she held and protected so dear and it was that protection that helped him survived. His last battle had not been a success and this one would not be as well.

The monk was to risky a prospect at the moment. He had become too powerful. From his brush to the boy's forehead, the demon knew that the man was most formidable. His powers had increased dramatically from what they were years ago, when he gazed through the brush at the small crying thing. And it was to be expected that he'd hone his skills over time.

Was he not doomed to die like the one before him? And if Naraku could help it the next generation would die just the same. Be that as it may, he still needed to heal and the time of recombustion was coming, the occasion when he would rest and grow stronger. The miasma had already started to attract demons and monsters of all kind to this place and they would eventually destroy what Kagewaki had built. The family then would be force to move on.

All the better for the demon. He did not like these lands. They radiated thickly with wards, spells put out to stop his kind, delaying his heal process.

Slowly and cautiously, he closed his eyes burying his head in the chest of the woman that borne the body he had taken. The monk's aura dim as the woman huddled into the palace walls.

_Humans were certainly foolish._

_**---((()))---**_

Tenrai was swift, easy with his movements unlike the sword that rattled the ground when swung.

The imprudent man refused to stop his tirade and Tenrai refused to be taken down. It was too risky when Naraku lay only inches away.

It was the shake in the ground that had gathered the attention of the soldiers and the wails from above that stopped the swinging of the sword.

Tenrai felt queasy as he gaze up towards the sound. A sickening cry erupted at the sight of above. The sky had turned to black darkened by shadows of foreboding doom. Tenrai could feel them, harsh on his nerves and his right hand tingled at the sight.

Masses of hungry fiends sailed from the sky showering the ground with a mist thick enough for the eyes of regular humans. Shocked cries and horrified screams erupted the night sky as gangly figures touched the ground. Some covered in slim, with bodies contorted in odd positions, teeth that glisten a rotten color yellow and green. Wailing war cries of their own, they attack the closes things to them, soldiers, women, children, and even themselves.

They covered the ground thriving in the miasma that had begun to choke villagers that cowered and ran in horror.

Tenrai swallowed his disgust at the sight before him, gripping his right wrist in anguish. His fingers were throbbing. He would have to save the exact people who wanted to murder him for treason.

"Save the lord," the words were said and soldiers laid their lives before them as they huddled around the unskilled man and Tenrai did not know if he was revolted from the demons or the fact that women and children where left in the open. They had begun to make trails for the open palace doors and others huddled in the far corner of the courtyard, whispering prayers between their lips.

A lord with no regard to his people. It was unbearable to watch.

In any case, Tenrai made it his sacred duty to protect the women that had decided to huddle in the corner of the courtyard at the far end. Quickly thinking, he jerked the sword from the hand of a samurai protecting the lord and raced with a vengeance that only he could mustered.

Swinging and cutting at small demons pouncing, daring to get in his way. Their tiny bodies spilling out thick pools of blood on the ground as they bent and broke in half at the tip of Tenrai's new blade.

If he was quick enough, it was possible for him to get to Naraku.

A smile of satisfaction had started to turn the corners of his mouth. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together better than he had hoped for. He knew that Naraku had summoned these demons. The haze of his aura was retched and undeniable. But no matter how malevolent it was, Tenrai was freed from his sentence as Lord Kagewaki was now sheltered from harm by his men.

The foul miasma had started to sweep the floors of the courtyard and Tenrai had to cover his nose, sensitive of the poison it held, but he was trained and with his competent and skillful eye, he noticed three. Three women that he would consider beauties awaiting his help and what a waste it was to allow them to be eaten by such filthy creatures.

Evil indeed, he thought and could not help the small smile that sheltered his lips. He sounded like Mushin.

Then he would go after Naraku. Yes, that was the plan. So simple to lay out and, yet so difficult to follow.

The huddle of women only closed in tighter when he approached, standing before them like a statuette figure to take on the approaching demons. With a scrutinizing eye, he surveyed his surroundings. All the humans had found places in the corners of the yard; even the lord had a special corner of his own, sheltered by soldiers.

Gaining accurate footing, Tenrai could feel his fingers twitch as though they had a mind of their own. The thought of having to remove the cloth was bothering him again as it had before.

_Ridiculous_, he thought of himself, the sword slipping from his fingers. As many times as he had used the weapon, he should have been use to it and everything it entails. But that was not the case and when he lifted his right hand towards the sky, weak knees buckled underneath him.

"Come on, damn it!" he shouted in frustration, forcing steady the looseness in his knees. He'd be damned if he would allow himself to fall right here and now.

He swallowed hard urging his mind to let go of the heavy burden as he jerked the beads with his left hand. The wind, lifting the fabric from the long unending hole in his right hand, also swept free the strains of hair from his face in a gentle breeze.

Narrowing his eyes against the current, he watched the large mass before him, twisting and turning. He wished to cover his ears as the sound of cracking and howls echoed through the air. It was agonizing and yet the people about him had begun to watch in awe. Lord Kagewaki had even cleared a hole to peek out at the man that was saving a village that he could not.

The surge of jealousy that turned his face green was visible, momentarily. Who was this nothing of a man?

The large mass before Tenrai had shrunk, disappearing in the palm of his hand. Wave after wave of demons howled out in pain, as they were helpless to stop their own pending doom.

And soon the courtyard was clear and still though the event had never taken place. Tenrai stood alone.

Lord Kagewaki emerged from the center of his men, a frown on his face and sword in hand. A scowl complemented his features when he made a clear, straight path to the nothing of a man in front of him.

How he had opened his hand and rid Kagewaki's lands was astounding. A miracle, that's what the man had been. And he should have all the praise for saving the lord's people and possessions. They should have draped him in gold and given him rest for the evening. A grateful lord would have offered him that and more.

Kagewaki was not that lord. His angry was borderline rage. In his eyes the man had some audacity to come and attack his son and wife. Then save his people with the lift of his hand. He had no pity and no appreciation for his acts. Gratification would come from the dismissal of the man or dismembering of him. Whichever came first.

Tenrai's body kneeled to prevent him from crashing to the soil beneath his feet. His feebleness had fast become overwhelming and he needed a moment to gather his tenacity. Somewhere Naraku was lurking and from wherever he was Tenrai knew he was watching.

The throbbing in his hand had started to send stinging pains through his forearm and he clinched it to his chest, unsure if he would be able to continue his pursuit. The slow breeze that swept his hair from his face brought with it the realization that Naraku's aura had ceased to be. The only miasma that covered the ground was an after glow of demons.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself tightening his right fist against the pain. Forcefully, he lifted to his feet in one steady motion, squinting his eyes at his surrounding, now calm and silent. That peace only interrupted by the lord's footsteps approaching.

Detesting the thought of being caught off guard, Tenrai strained his mind to focus the blurriness before his eyes.

"Do you still wish to attack my son?" Those were his first words. Lord Kagewaki straightened his back noticing the way Tenrai gazed at his palace walls. The one story building stretch gallantly over acres of land. If this man made a move, it was no guarantee that he would find his child before the Lord's men could strike him down.

Naraku was no longer there. It was the only explanation that made any sense. There was no way a demon could mask his presence to this degree. Where the creature had gone boggled Tenrai as he stood there tuning in and out of his surrounding. The demons he had taken into his palm had been more than he expected and gradually they had begun to take effect.

He was almost out done.

The atmosphere tensed instantly when Tenrai turned to his attention to Kagewaki. He drew a picture of the man in his mind. His gangly frame visible despite his armor, his hair cut back from his face, starting his hairline about the center of his head; beady eyes, a thin brow and cheekbones that cut sharply into his altered mane. He was almost sickly looking and it did nothing for his weak stand.

"No," Tenrai leveled his eyes. There was no point in pursuing his attack any further. These people were simple minded and nothing their Lord could do was wrong. For men to give up their lives for such a man was repulsive and Tenrai wanted not to be in their company without good reason.

And his reason had just disappeared into thin air.

"I wish not to see your face in my lands again," Kagewaki spoke dignified as if he had not just coward behind his men. Honestly, he wished he could cut the man down where he stood for more than just the threat he posed to his son, but how would it all look when the man who had just saved his village laid face down in the dirt, dead by his hands.

Tenrai, not one to mince words, gritted his teeth scanning the world around for one last clue to Naraku. Nothing, but the villagers standing and watching with wide eyes and baited breaths. His presences made them uneasy, even the three that he had found save worthy. They still huddle together as if the attack was not over.

Without a word, the lone hero turned leaving the repugnant village to its Lord.

_**---((()))---**_

Naraku was laughing inside. The catacombs below the palace had worked out perfectly. The dark and musty area was just what he needed.

The woman before him had kneeled in a corner, her body limp and her eyes closed. She would occasionally whisper for Kagewaki Hitomi, but he could not be reached at the moment. Her attendants had fallen unconscious a few yards back, but Naraku made certain to let the woman make it deeper into the maze of tunnels before he released a massive amount of poison to lay the Lady Kagewaki to rest.

His body had begun to wither away, almost before the woman had passed out before him. Now he lay amidst fragments of himself. The only thing remotely recognizable about the baby was his head which mounted up top a pile of slithering creatures that looked no more than skeletons of snakes. They scathed each other, engaging in small bouts for power.

With eager eyes, Naraku watched. For the one that would win would be the one that he kept. It was not a complicated process, but a thriving one. When he had the winner it would make his body stronger, his power would increase, and his abilities would grow.

_Perfect, _he smiled to himself and on the face of a baby, it was sorely out of place. _As for the Miyatsu…_

He had no intention on allowing the monk to find him again. For time itself would take care of him.

_**---((()))---**_

The forest was starting to whisper night through its branches and small howls could be heard. Tenrai had found the path to the eastern temple hours ago and followed it with a slow lead. His mind was such an obscure of thoughts, he had to convinced himself that he had seen the face of Naraku. He had been right, so right that the monster did exist and like the noonday sun he also disappeared.

His tattered robe, and mangled hair danced in the coming breeze. His knees were no longer able to respond to his constant begging and he was too dazed to continue pleading. So his steps staggered from time to time.

He played the scenario in his head over and over again, looking for things he could have done differently, things he could have said and didn't.

Words muttered from his lips out in the open for passing travels to hear, but none were on the road as night started to fall. He knew that depression was not an option in this situation, not if he ever hope to find peace, a family, a home.

But discouragement was a tricky feeling and he was falling deeper and deeper within the dark place that Mushin warned about. What was he to honestly do if he could not find the demon again? What was he to do if he stood before his death with only days to count until the hole completely opened to engulf him?

"So damn close," he mumbled the words, watching the twitch in his right fingers. His hand was starting to have regular spasms and that was not good. Mushin was nowhere around and with the massive amount of demons he had just taken in, it had to have stretched the hole. Hopefully, it was not beyond repair.

The slow and steady drain of his spirit continued to tremble his knees and his steps. If he had not been so dazed he would have felt the water crystals that had started to make trails down his cheeks.

How much of this could a man take? When the things that he had so treasured as a child were disappearing behind the tunnel in his right hand.

How long would it take? How long before he found Naraku again? He had no intention of giving up, but he needed a long break. Some time for his mind to recuperate, gather his thoughts and become stronger than he was now.

And still he had to persuade himself that his time was not wasted. It would help for him to become stronger. Maybe in becoming more than he was now, he could find Naraku even when he masked his aura.

_Yes, it was possible._ Possible for the man to obtain strength and take down that bastard of a demon and live.

"Yes, I want that," he rambled on with barely a parting of his lips. Even as a monk he wanted to live a happy life. He was good enough for that.

His footsteps had taken him up a small hill and on the horizon the Eastern Buddha Monastery smiled down at him. The walls were made of fine wood and stretched along the grass from one end of the hill to the next. A statue of Buddha sat on the left side of the door, rounded and smiling with ease at oncoming travelers. His brass belly glistened remnants of the noonday sun on the grass path leading up to the door, welcoming the monk to rest.

Next to the statue, another round figure waited, staff in hand. Mushin.

Tenrai wanted to smile, but the emotion was lost. Instead, his mouth twisted awkwardly in a worthless attempt and he let it fall, figuring it useless.

The small city nearby meant nothing, now. He only wanted to rest, to breath without the thoughts of Naraku and the events that had just occurred.

"Tenrai…" Mushin's calls cut short as the chubby man trampled through the grass. He held his small staff at an angle and his robe was newly made.

As he drew closer to the man, he could easily make out his tattered garment, his mangled hair, but more than that he knew a defeated man when he saw one.

"What happened to you?" He offered the wooden pole to the weary man for him to lean on.

"I saw him, Mushin," Tenrai whispered gripping the staff and nearly falling over it. "I need to train. I need to get better." He lifted his legs nearly dragging them over the terrain.

Mushin stared at his friend calculating the damage that had been made. The external was fixable, but the internal damage bothered Mushin. He did not know how much further the man could go, but he would not question his decision. He was a grown man and not his son.

"Okay, Tenrai," he followed solemnly. All his questions would have to wait. "Okay."

_**---((()))---**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Dear Reader;**__ Be advised: this chapter is not for the weak at heart. It is meant to twist your stomach a little and at the same time it serves a purpose and hopefully gives understanding to Miyabi. So here we go…_

_**Chapter 10; Husband**_

**_--000--_**

_The air between them had become so stiff that even the breath stilled in her throat, choking her. If it wasn't for the weight of the man above her, she would have thought to inhale, but the intense look in his eyes sent a thrill up her spine and all contemplation ceased._

_Everything around them had die away in movement. A pin could have fallen, making echoes ring from one side of the room to the next and she would not have paid it any attention. _

_Ecstasy invaded her mind and made it a haze of what she desired it to be. She wanted to think, and react. She wanted to do something other than roll her hips against his, pant his name, and claw at his back, like some helpless little girl._

_Her left thigh suspended high in his right hand. All the while his fingers tightened with each stroke of his body, leaving red imprints for reminders. Sweat poured from his brow, tickling a trail to the tip of his nose while animalistic growls ricocheted from wall to wall and back to her ears. _

"_Miyabi." His body was starting to shutter inside her and she maneuvered her muscles to clench him, please him. Her pampered hands reached out to grab him. Small dainty arms encircled his board back and mashed him across her bare chest._

"_Yes, yes," she coached him, burying his head in the nape of her neck. "That's it."_

_Her nails traced small cuts along his back that war had made and she whispered, "I am here." Her lips caressed the tip of his ear. Her swift tongue ran over the tip of his lope to taste him._

_He bit his bottom lip, a habit he chastised her for. The feeling of her right heel digging into his lower back urged him. _

"_Damn it!" he grunted. In one violent motion he slammed his hands to the hard floor beneath her head and cried out in agony as her nails clawed open those same cuts that she caressed only moments ago. His body ached and begged for release. _

_Between her legs felt like home and left him in agony. _

_With every fiber of his being he could not take his hands from her. Stubbornness in his body did not want to leave her and a greater part of his mind had started to lose the control that kept him from her- the common sense given to a man._

_It was her sobs that he heard first, then the soft whimper from her lips- sounding something of a wounded animal. With a slow and steady movement, he lifted his head just enough to notice the silver trickles that had started to trace lines down her cheeks._

_Slow inaudible whispers came from her lips like invisible liquid. He thought to ask her what was wrong, but couldn't find the words._

_His mind was not able to grasp the agony that had started to contort the lovely feature on her face. He lifted himself from her, his naked body exposed to the coolness of the night that had surrounded them._

_Miyabi's body still lay on the cool floor. Her arms still extended wrapping around thin air, clutching someone that was not there. Over and over again he heard her breathless whispers. Louder and louder they had become until she was screaming and her face became an unclear picture in his mind._

"_Please don't!!"_

The air that gushed into his lungs burned like poison and there was a haze before his eyes. Sweat poured onto the bed sheets like water and Tanaka felt as if he were glue to the mattress. In the night air, his body was trembling with desire and his mind cried out in frustration.

"Miyabi," he whispered into the darkness just to hear her name.

It had been nearly a year since she had departed from his home. Tanaka had made it a point of never going to see the girl in hopes that his dreams would stop. However the thought of her smooth skin, her panty voice, the times he had seen her precious face cringe in pain and those tears in her eyes, would rile him to a breaking point. He had awoken many times like this with sweat pouring, heart beating, and the stiffness below his stomach that frustrating him.

He threw things, broke lamps, vases, expensive items that he would no longer be able to replace. Afterwards, he would fall to his knees to pray silently to whatever god listened to the rants of a mad man. God, how he longed for her.

But tonight was different. Tonight, he had no desire to wake his servants in the middle of the night with his screams and shouts of anger and aggravation. Tonight, his body was weak, feeble from his peculiar dreams. With a trembling hand, he made a trail from the nape of his neck and down the middle of his chest, just like she had in his dreams.

He was surprised that at his own touch his body quivered. Shamelessly, his fingertips traced the ripples that made up the muscles of his belly and through the thick brush of curls that he knew Miyabi had inherent. With an exhale breath, he wrapped his finger around his penis that stood erect from his visions.

Without a thought her name came from his lips, "Miyabi."

It brought about an unusual relief, something that Tanaka had not had since the day she left. Slow and steady stroke put him at ease and he called her again. In his mind he had visions of the night she laid on the floor and he stroked her with his fingertips. The softness of her was tantalizing and her wetness that had started to cover his five appendages would have made her ready for him.

Involuntarily, his strokes became vigorous and he closed his eyes to see her.

If he had entered her that night, taken away her virginity, she would have been his tonight. She would have thrown her head back and he would have nipped at the exposed skin on her neck, leaving markings that she would cover with a light dust of powder.

His body was once again shuddering against his vicious movements.

She would cringe at her own tightness as he slowly, tenderly stretch her open. A slight whimper from her throat would cause him to kiss her lips and whisper, "It is okay." Then he would continue, gradually entering her and easing out as inch by inch she stretched to take him.

His blood was rushing now. He could feel his pulse surging in between his fingers. Damn, it felt good to lose himself in her.

He would teach her. Show her to move with him so her body could embrace him at the right points and he could fulfill desires that she never knew of.

On a panted breath, he called to her again, "Miyabi." His body jerked forward into his hands and he finally released covering himself in the slick white liquid that would have been encaged in Miyabi.

In his mind, her muscles relaxed around him and she smiled at him, hugging him in a childish way. "Thank you," she'd laugh that giddy way he had not heard in years. "Can we do it again?"

"Oh, gods." Tanaka panicked when he felt his body go rigid again, wanting more than what he had given and he continued stroking and tugging as he saw Miyabi smiling and panting with him. He called her name and she would call his in return.

As the second climax escaped, Tanaka felt weary, but not spent. His right hand shook uncontrollable against himself and he could feel his blood rushing, starting his body up again as if he had done nothing. The sound of her voice echoed in his mind and his body was ready again.

Enraged, he grabbed the clean linen he was covered in and threw it across the room. Gripping his unyielding hard extension, he began to jerk wildly for release, coming to a conclusion in his mind, a declaration that made him reach out his free hand towards her grabbing only thin air.

"I will to have you."

**_--000--_**

Her dreams were that of an innocent young woman. When she closed her eyes, she saw white lilies and red roses- kimono's traced with silk threads and happiness visible to only her eyes.

Those dreams were piece of mind, her solace. They eased her like the hand of her mother on those restless nights, but slowly she found herself without those images. Those dreams had stared to dry up with the swinging of her instructor's calligraphy pen, reddening the backs of her hand. With each wrong answer, with each incorrect posing of a limb, strict discipline was the response.

And gradually things changed.

Curiosity was childish, biting your lip was improper, and going without shoes was barbaric. Royalty had taught her those things and Miyabi had adapted with the precision of a true lady. She stood with a straight back and was more seen than heard. Her touch was light, and her manners, perfection. She was Lady Yamato.

The lord's wondering eye had begun to focus on Miyabi and though it excited her to have the attentions of her lord, it was terrifying. His stare was direct and he was no shameful man. He would stop by her lessons everyday and watch with a scrutinizing eye. The gentle strokes with a calligraphy brush had never been so enticing.

With gradually influence, he saw her begin to form into what he so longed for her. She would speak in a quite voice and only talk when spoken to. Whispers from servants had begun to change from criticism to admiration. He enjoyed that.

She was his.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched her lips caress the brim of the sake cup as she drank. The tip of her fingers encircled the small container and her face gave an ever so slight cringe at the burn it caused in her chest. He had kept her away from sake; it was unbecoming of a woman to drink in such a fashion.

Her makeup had been place flawlessly and in her uchikake, she glistened. The white fabric laid against her skin in a similar design as snow on the ground. On the ends of each sleeve, a hint of blue, mingled with the feather cranes that danced all about her garments. Each thread carefully entangled into the fabric to form this perfection before Lord Yamato. She had never looked more beautiful than she did then.

Removing the cup from her lips, she swallowed with hopes of ridding herself of the bitter taste on her tongue. The small cup rested on the palm of her left hand as she eased it over to her husband wary of her dress. She had not wanted to soil the fabric she wore.

Yamato's lips curved into some what of an enduring smile as he took the cup from her. His fingers brushing the skin of her hand and he saw her wince. He took it as nothing more than the taste of sake, and proceeded with the ceremony of marriage.

Underneath her kimono, Miyabi shook like a nervous child. She could feel the eyes of her father stares and in her head she could his voice. "_Akusai wa hyaku-nen no fusaku. "_

His bittersweet tongue whispered those words to her again, moments before she stood beside her husband, with the demeanor of a woman that she could not recognize if asked. Behind her, a gathering of royalty that she knew nothing of, but her husband spoke among them like family. They admired him and congratulated the man on such a beautiful wife.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him take the sake to his mouth and drink with an ease that she did not possess, nor did she want. As composed as she was, she wanted to run.

Her father had told her not to. He had gripped her by the shoulders digging his finger tips into her skin as though the fabric she wore could hinder his words. Back and forth he shook her until the vision before her blurred.

She nodded blindly, tears hadn't stained her powdered cheeks, but blood stained her well-manicured fingers. A healthy gash tore the skin on the back of her hand. It neither hurt nor stung. It was just a reminder of a confusion that she did not understand.

The oak frame of her full length mirror lay not far away. Crooked and facedown, it did not compare to the shattered glass about the floor. The jagged shards caused images of light to glitter the walls around them. Almost mystical, was how she remembered it. It was like something of a fairytale.

Miyabi hadn't known who to blame; herself or the woman that stared at her through the translucent frame of the mirror. The image of her was revolting and petrified Miyabi. However, the damn woman could be called nothing, but beautiful, radiant, and graceful. Her line of elegance came only once in a lifetime and Miyabi hated that.

The woman was the spitting image of her mother. The same solemn expression dashed across her face and she could not tell if she was delighted or miserable. She would follow her husband around quietly becoming the perfect treasure for any man.

People smiled and admired this woman. She had started trends amongst others in the village, as had her mother.

Miyabi didn't know her and had no interest in knowing her. She was nothing, but an image of perplexity to taint Miyabi and thus she had put her fist next to the image, pressing until the woman's face shattered into tiny depictions of what it had once been. Millions of eyes stared back at her accusingly, daring her to grip the frame holding the woman's image and she did. Her tiny fingers grasping the mirror frame so tightly that she could hear the wood groan. She cried out before she threw the structure, a hollow grunt from her throat, scaring the maiden that stood in the corner, ready to serve her lady.

The young girl raced through the corridors, she had never seen a woman so enraged. When she ran into Lord Tanaka, she was petrified. Her words came out a jumbled mess, but enough for the man to understand that there was something wrong.

Without a second thought, he stood before her doors watching the beautiful woman as she picked up sharp shards of glass throwing them across the room, mumbling incoherent words under her breath. The small glass would slam against the wall, and explode with the sound of tiny bells.

It was the third piece that sent him racing towards her, gripping her shoulders. He would bring her back to reality; give her the sense that she was born with.

Then she gazed up at him, questioning his presence, a final shard of glass falling from her fingers to the floor about his feet. The blank stare he received made him wonder if she had even heard him tell her to cease her actions and she had not.

It was the eerie silence that covered the wardrobe room underneath her father's words that dawned her attention. The awkward quietness gave her a semblance of peace. Her eyes had closed and she tilted her head back, thoughts drifting back to days when she would have cried, would have felt hurt.

In her father's arms her body went limp.

In her mind, the sound of the glass as it collided with the skin of her hand played like a melody. The relief that came with the shatter caressed her down to the depths of her soul. She didn't care that Yamato would take a hand to her face when he found out about it, leaving bruises and imprints on her cheeks as he had done before.

He was fixing her. That had become his reasoning, but as hard as she tried she couldn't recall being broken.

Tanaka stared at his daughter, confusion marred his features. He knew nothing to do.

She looked to him for the healing that only a father could bring, but Tanaka could never be that father to her. She was more to him than she could ever understand.

He could not decipher his feelings as she gazed at him. The thought of wanting to condemn her or take her away from the life that he had planned out for her were at war in his mind. Those impending dreams planted remnants in his head and he mashed her small frame against his chest. From her mouth a gasp of surprise. If she had been his lover he would have laid her down on the bare wooden floors until she could remember to breath. And while she could not understand what was happening around her, he would have explained to her, but unlike the father that he needed to be.

Miyabi could hear her father's heart beat. The tempo was something that she had never heard before. It was soothing and the rhythm pounded against her left temple. With eyes closed, she clung to him digging her red nails into the fabric of his yukata. It felt magnificent. The sense that maybe he cared, that the man had some feelings for her, but she was still as naïve as the day she left her home.

Tanaka sniffed the jasmine from her hair, felt the curves of her waist and through the thicken fabric she wore, he could image the smoothness of her skin.

"Gods," he whispered tightening his grip on her, finding the tremors that haunted his body at night were staring to shake the tips of his fingers.

In her ears, he sounded as the father that cared, but in her ignorance she failed to notice the way his hands had started to caress the small of her back.

He had begun to question the sensation building in the pit of his stomach. His fingers hesitantly roamed the contours of her back. Would it be okay if I just…

"My lady?" The voice, clear and contrite, came with an underlined warning and he found it annoying.

To Miyabi, the father and daughter moment had come to an end. With lilting hands, he released her allowing her to stand and straighten the hand woven obi around her waist. Afterwards, she turned to the door, with a renewed sense of unawareness.

Gekido stood at the door. Hair pulled back into a bun- her formal attire pressed and pristine.

Immediate recognition raised Tanaka's brow. The few times that he had seen her in his home she had been huddled under an over protective grandmother, but had she been free she would have become another concubine in his palace walls.

How could any of that matter now? Not with the small indention that he felt in Miyabi's back. The new contours of her face and the small fraction of a smile that echoed on her face at that moment.

If she could understand what ran through his mind, would she reject him or let him take what he wanted as her father and pervious lord.

He calculated his motions carefully in his mind, taking the hesitation from his lingering hands so that she would not notice. He spun around on his heels before the longing on his face was visible, leaving the clinking sound of his boots forever in his daughters mind.

Tap, tap, tap.

And she watched his back against the darkness of the atmosphere, etched his frame into her mind like a well oil painting. And though she could count the very threads that assembled the crest upon his back, if asked of her wedding ceremony, she could remember nothing, but the shivers from her husbands touch, the pulsations of her fearful heart.

**_--000--_**

She stood before her new husband, now. They were alone. His frame towered above her and his eyes roamed the contours of her body as though she were a divine dish.

Lord Yamato had only dreams of his time with her. His vision derived from their encounter in the forest. The softest skin glazed with honey from the light of the sun. It was so close his fingertips had begun to tingle with want.

He took a deep breath absorbing the intimacy of his moment.

The room they shared was drafty. A small futon draped in white linen and dusted with the smell of chamomile was the center piece. An enchantment of candlelight danced from the wall to the ceiling and back again.

She didn't like the look in his eyes. So, she didn't stare while the thought of his hands repulsed her, giving her tremors in the pit of her belly.

Would he stop if she asked him to?

Her eyes went to the bed.

Lord Yamato frowned at the way Miyabi just stood there staring at the futon. He circled the mattress, stopping opposite of his bride. He had no intentions of wasting time wondering of what would be. He was straight forward and always had been. Nothing could change that. Not the fears of his wife, or her stupid notions.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered as he would his slave and though she wasn't, he had never thought of her as a person of equal status.

She jumped at the sound of his voice. Unprepared, she could do no more than stare at him. He sounded so much to her like her father that she almost called him by that name.

With the uncomfortable motions of inexperience, she slipped her kimono from her shoulders.

His eyes scrutinized her actions. Innocently, she didn't understand the situation and the uncertainty of his thoughts bothered her. Even the delicate touch of the wind that eased through the cracked window frightened her as it rushed over her bare skin, touching her in all those spot that made her shame.

"Lay, Miyabi-chan." He ordered and she slowly lowered herself to the bed keeping her limbs close to her for comfort.

Her back hit the mattress with a small thud that echoed in her ears. Her senses filled with the light smell of chamomile so much closer now than before and she could hear the ruffles of fabric beneath her.

Her body had started to relax on the pristine sheets and the thought of her husband escaped her mind for merely a moment before she heard the cling of armor falling to the floor. With a wide eye and a broken heart, she turned to him.

Body glistening in the light of the moon, his yukata fell to the floor. Underneath she eyed him, made a drawing of him in her mind. His body had been shaped at one time, but now it had started to loose the tightness that held in crisp stomach muscles. So, it in turn rounded slightly above a scar, a massive indention that was meant to kill. His legs lingered on forever and she could see how he had once been the man of dreams, but he was older now and she could only wonder how he would change for years to come.

She had adverted her eyes before the shadows could uncover the parts that scared her and it brought a laugh to Yamato's throat.

Such a child, he mused lowering his body to the bed, gazing over his bride. Taking his time, he studied the smooth texture of her skin, the rise and fall of her chest, nipples hard from the consistent breeze tangling around them. The way her belly flatten and sunken in the middle, was untouched by any hands, but his. Black hairs curled at folds of her thighs. So pretty the way they shifted with the touch of his fingertips. Softly he raked his hands over them catching the heavy gasp on Miyabi's breath.

His fingers wanted to touch every part of her body, wanted to explore the region of her curves and creases until he tired, but there would time for that later. Right now, his body was rigid with want.

Fabric wrinkling beneath his hands as he crawled over her, he looked much like a dog on hands and knees.

Her eyes stared daggers into the far wall and Yamato found it displeasing. Lowering his lips to her ears, he barked through clenched teeth. "What are you staring at?"

She wasn't compelled to answer him, only to turn and stare with eyes the size of serving saucers. Her lips parted. With nothing to say that would satisfy him, she was much the child that Yamato thought her to be.

Through in the moonlight, he could not deny that he had chosen a beautiful wife. The woman beneath him had all the glory to bring a man to his knees and with no knowledge of what she was, she would belong to him.

He had accomplished such feats before and she would be no different.

She was his ornament. She was nothing more than something pretty for him to play with. His bidding would do for her. He could mold her, shape her, and she would bend to his will without question.

Her lessons had been diligent and dealt with similar rule. He would watch her as she studied. Such the determined learner that she was, she didn't notice the scrutinizing way in which her future husband eyed her. His sights were approving of her, and that was all he needed.

The tenderness of her body lay beneath him questioning what was to come. He liked that. It was the intent of war. His weapon was the element of surprise and he thrived. Leaning into her neck like an animal he tasted her skin with the tip of his tongue.

She swallowed, the muscles in her neck responding.

And he smiled.

His experience had taught him how gentle a woman could be, but it had not taught him to care. With a swift motion, he maneuvered her thighs apart with his knees and watched her wince, shifting her body away from him. A normal man would have been insulted, but Yamato was a warrior from his heart and sight of the flinch amused him, excited him.

In dimming candlelight she look helpless, and her skin teased him. It was similar to that enticing moment in the bamboo forest, when she lay beneath him, crying, panting, and looking for a way out.

At the very thought, his heart rushed and he could feel blood racing to see those beautiful tears stream down her face like rivers. He wanted submission.

From his throat a dry laugh and a harsh grunt. In her ears, it resonated and she shook from the core of her soul.

It was her tears that pushed him. Like the monsters he had seen in the forest, he curled his lips back away from his nearly jagged teeth and lowered his head to the nape of her neck.

She felt the tingle of his breath, the moisture of his tongue, and the sharp, pinch of his teeth. Excruciating pain erupted on her neck sending terrifying signals to her brain and she cried out. He knew she had been heard outside the four walls that caged them, but her stimulating reaction was riveting.

The bittersweet taste of copper engulfed his mouth as her fingers raked at his cheeks trying in a futile attempt to stop the pain that tore at her shoulder, but his teeth dug deeper.

Heavy hands forced her manicured fingers from his face and to the mattress in a deadlock grip he used when he took the thinnest blade across the tender flesh on an enemy's neck. He gripped her until her fingers where numb.

A trail of red poured from the corner of his lips once he lifted his head to eyed the woman and she was crying, uncertain, and scared.

The corners of his mouth turned upward, curving into something of a vicious nature. His teeth coated in red liquid and he leaned in close to kiss her lips. He felt her protest and would not allow it; felt her body shifting for a semblance of comfort and laughed at her attempts.

He laid himself between her legs, allowing her warmth despite his grave treatment of her, but not for her sake, for his. Her legs kicked and shot out from under him. Her tears were still freshly falling to the white sheets as she turned away from him.

"My lord, please," she whispered through the lump that had formed in her throat.

At the sound of her words, he felt insulted. She dared to protest with words what her lord was doing. No one, absolutely no one protested this lord.

Anger visible in his eyes, he lifted her wrist until she had no choice but to come face to face with him, lifting her head from the bed. And she was powerless.

Through his teeth, he spat words out to her, blood sprinkled her face, "what has your mind, woman? I will not stand for your protest."

Slamming her head back down to the bed, he gave her no time to think before shoving himself into her fully without thought to her virginity. A ragged scream escaped her throat and the hand of a brute covered her lips.

"God, so help me," his abrasive act turned her head to the side, jarring a pain in her neck. "If you scream once more. I will snap you neck."

The pain between her legs sent sensations up her back splitting her nerves in two. She was unsure what she should have done, but she could feel the throbs of his movements and heard laughter on his breath.

"That is what it means to belong to someone, Miyabi," he panted on a harsh breath as he pumped her harder and more rapidly than before. "You belong to me, girl."

Miyabi laid there, eyes closed enduring the unfamiliar pain. On her lips she whispered a prayer that her mother had taught her and though she could not remember for what she had learned the pray for, she simply hoped that someone heard her.

Her body trembled when it was over. Her limbs were unsteady and she bled from between her legs. She stared at the wood of the ceiling, paralyzed. Afraid that if she moved incorrectly, she would offend the man that had so easily rolled over and fallen to sleep. She didn't want to wake him, lest he wanted to torture her more.

She had not reached up to dry her eyes, neither had she allowed a sob from her mouth. Shock had left her aching and in the pit of her belly the churning had started again. She could fill bile in the back of her throat, but her brain had not been quick enough to tell her to move or turn over, but her husband had.

With a sharp jab with his elbow, he moaned in his pleasurable sleep, "You are not to lie around in that state. Go clean yourself, Miyabi."

Limbs that felt like weights lead her to the far corner of the room. Her steps burned the place between her legs and she could not find a steady stride to keep from holding on to the table and collapsing beside the small wooden bucket of water, left specifically for her occasion. She had not meant to lean over the still water, but her body was so feeble that it was all she could do to keep from crashing to the ground. In the translucent frame, she saw her reflection the woman that started back at her look horrendous. Blood had been draped across her face and she couldn't seem to recall how in the mist of her experience.

Her eyes wide and vaguely defined turned away from her reflection, searching for answers to questions that had started to form in her mind. Her sights stopped on the bed. The bloodstain on the left side of the sheets stood out like a rose in carnations. The broad back of the man that she had so detested once upon a time, stared back at her as evidence.

She had become his woman. Everything that she was had become his. She had lay beneath him and watched him upon her panting, and grunting, the hair about his head slinging over his shoulders.

She had laid eyes upon his naked body and had gotten to know her husband. And he had hurt her. Like so many other times, she had stared up at him, questioning what she had done to deserve the bruise about her cheek, the blood that came from her lips, and now the redness that gushed between her legs.

Nothing made sense. His brutality was dry and uncalled for, but she had desired to be what he wanted for a wife and for the few minutes she laid beneath him, she was.

In the pit of her belly, the churning had ceased only a plunging feeling that forced her to distort her naked body while the bile that sat in her throat spread about the floor at her feet.

**_--000--_**

The wood below her feet had gone cold hours ago and the corridor was empty.

Her head was starting to hurt because she gripped her hair too tightly, pulling from each end, but it was the only thing she could do to slow the tears that fell at her feet. They turned the floor a darker brown and at times she allowed her mind to wonder as she gazed at the damp floor.

Then she'd hear her screaming. Crying out for help that was not coming.

A muffled sound from behind the rice door. Then she was quiet again, but only for a moment.

And for the first time she questioned herself. For the first time, she considered leaving her lady. Gekido's decision to stay was never a matter of should she, but it was duty and admiration -the last wish of her grandmother.

The release of tension on her head eased her headache as she used her hands to cover her ears. The padding of the lady's footsteps across the room bothered her. So unsteady and overcastted.

If she could have, she would have run to her, comforting the woman that she admired.

But she had heard this before. Some distance memory that she chose to forget, but she could recall her feelings. So vivid they were, now.

Thoughts of running into the room to stop this torturous behavior had crossed her mind, but the lord would not stand for it and she was in no position to question a man as powerful as he.

Even Tanaka had not been this brutal, but Tanaka had not been her lover. Would it have been better if Miyabi refused the marriage and ran from such a man?

Yamato's common logic made no sense. He thrived on punishment to those closes to him and treated his concubines with care. At least that was what she had heard whispered from the mouths of women that had been with him and a few men that had the pleasure of passionate encounters with the lord, but that was never to be spoken of.

Lord Yamato was cruel, but Gekido would be there, waiting outside the door until she could enter to help the woman that she served.

**_--000--_**

_**Thank you for still reading. Sorry, it took so long.**_


	11. Chapter 11

-1_**Unnoticed Forewarning **_

_**-(((())))—**_

The city was busy that day. People had been all about in the streets, whispering of the wedding that had lavished and stunned the richest of nobles. The word had spread from far and wide. Yamato had taken a beautiful bride.

A young girl, who smiled like the sun and moved with the grace of the empress. And nothing intrigued Tenrai more. When word passed through the eastern temple, it had only taken him moments to free himself from the constant meditations of the day.

He had left Mushin behind. As much of a brother he was, so was he a father and Tenrai needed no restrictions. For with weddings came the service of women and the sake of kings. People were to celebrate until the morning and besides the city had been calling his name for days.

He straightened his newly acquired black robe and ran his hands over his kesa. He wanted to look crisp when he entered the city. From his experience, he'd learned that women loved nothing more than a clean gentleman amongst them.

With precision, he straighten his ponytail, longer than it had been and more annoying to Mushin, but Tenrai refused to cut it. He wasn't sure if it was just amusement or if he had become accustom to the strains on his head, either way he found it comical when Mushin frowned at his hair in the mornings before it was combed.

The gates around the city had been draped in rainbows of ribbons commemorating the union. And it was beautiful, Tenrai had to admit himself, but it was much to much for his taste. But what more for a royal, such as Yamato.

The gates were open for the public all who looked the part and with his clean appearance, Tenrai was a significant looking figure in the public's eye. His new staff carved by his own hand showed status amongst the people. Up top the long pole, brass rings tapped against each other like bells ringing out in the streets.

With each cling of brass, heads turned and people politely bowed out of his way. For in their eyes he was nothing, but an honorable monk.

In the streets he was disappointed. Nothing of interest seemed to be taking place, not even the eyes of a beautiful woman seemed to be present. Only couples and men that had snuck out of the house for a taste of sake.

Conversely, Tenrai was ever optimistic. For the smell of perfume greeted him in the eastern part of the city and the smell of bathing oils tempted him in the west.

"Such a lovely day when the two come together," he whispered to no one in particular. Overlooking the people that eyed him with curiosity, Tenrai stood his staff in the dirt, the brass rings reflecting the coming moonlight. He measured it, making sure there was no flaw in its making and released it, allowing it to fall amidst a dirt cloud at his feet.

The chiseling brass ringing in his ears, he stared down at the pointed tip.

"To the east," he announced. His heart welled at the thought as he eyed the staff. Sweet perfume adrift the east filling his head with desires that only a man of his caliber could muster.

He shuffled his feet over the dirt not wanting to appear anxious, but his heart pounded. With a slow lingering grip, he lifted the staff from the dirt and took in a deep humbling breath.

A man must do what a man must do, he thought rising to his feet.

Under the noonday sun, he made his way through the city following the scent underneath his nose. Until there in front of his eyes…

She sat with memories in her head and they caused pain. The way he looked at her and said her name. He whispered words in her ear that she couldn't stop, couldn't hear, and she hated it.

When she sat the small cup of sake on the wooden table, a tiny drop splashed on her hand and it tickled her pink. Others had turn to watch the young woman, with jewels around her neck and gold barrettes in her head. They all wondered what such a lavishly dress young woman was doing in such a run down nothing bar as this. The floors were not polished, and the bar had not been wiped down since it had been built leaving small water stains on the bamboo surface. Even the rice doors has small rips in them.

Itsuka didn't care. She only signaled the bar tender to ask for another. She wanted nothing more than to wash down the memories of her love as he stood there with another woman's name on his lips. Yet the feeling sat in the middle of her belly, churning her muscles.

How could he be so cruel as that? Did he not know that she was the one he was suppose to be with?

What a child he had married? Did he not understand that she was the real thing? What a good- for…

"Excuse me, miss." His voice was so bold and stern, that she couldn't help, but to turn and stare. He sounded like the kind of man she adored.

Once her eyes focused in front of her, she decided that she hated him. He reminded her of something that the sake couldn't quite help her place a finger on. Involuntarily, her eyes rolled and she turned away from him.

Tenrai smiled to himself watching the silk of her kimono sway with her body. In his imagination, she was exquisite. A rare beauty indeed. It was the little things about her that he noticed, like the powder about her neck, the small twitch in her brow, and the corners of her lips that curved and twisted as if to smile, but no luck.

Itsuka lowered her head closer to the sake cup, wishing to dissolve in it.

"What troubles you, young miss?" Tenrai started. "You-"

"Why do you pry so monk?" she interrupted him with a drunken sense of pride. Her voice loud enough to stir the man nearby. "Is there nothing for you to do?"

Tenrai stared at her a moment gathering himself. Her words had put him off, yet the peeking skin of her cream white legs beckon him back. Calculating a much stronger defense, and a better strategy, he turned on his heels in the opposite direction.

Itsuka frowned at her glass when she heard the click of the monks rod on the ground as he slowly took his leave.

Damn another man walk away from me, she fumed between the woozy spells of sake on her brain. Yamato had walked away from her. No, he had passed her by.

How could she expect any man to measure up to the man that Yamato was. When she first laid eyes on him, she knew that he was everything she could hope for. He was, in her eyes handsome. The fear that he instilled in other people was enchanting and made her wonder of a man like the one that was Yamato.

However, this night, he laid with another woman. Her lady. Her enemy. Her rival in love. So, he dare lay with another, then so should she.

"How dare you?" she whispered closer to a grunt that Tenrai heard. She liked this imaginary game that she played with her imaginary lover.

He stopped in his tracks, wondering if his ears had been poisoned. Her voice sounded as though she was angry with him. Had they meet before? He didn't remember. He hoped for the life of him that he had not. Bad memories from times before clouded his mind as he slowly turned to find the woman right beneath his nose. The smell of sake ripe on her breath.

A near by table turned to watch the spectacle of the two. One of the men began to slowly rise from his place. "You there," he demanded of Itsuka. After all, she was a woman and he was a monk, of status no less. How dare she push herself so close to him?

Tenrai lifted his hand to hush the man and stared down at Itsuka waiting for an answer to why she stared at him so intently. Her eyes marbleized. Her kimono skirt split up to the mid thigh, while jeweled combs had begun to hang by two or three strands of lose hair on her head.

What was it that she was so intent on doing in front of all these people? Even though he was exceedingly glad he had gotten a response from her, Tenrai was not sure if it was going to be the one he wanted.

Focusing was getting a little harder and if she had known better, she would have doubted getting in the monks face. At this point in time she didn't feel that she was wrong in any sorts. She liked this game. "You approach me," her words bubbled out like hot water, yet in her mind she danced drunken circles around the monk. "Yet you have the nerve to leave."

She made no sense and Tenrai did not want a drunk. So once again, he turned and began to walk away. With a shake of his head, he whispered, "should have went the other way."

Itsuka was perplexed. He kept leaving her.

Did he not like this game? Or was he turning his back on her like the others, but she had swayed them and she could sway him too.

After all, she wanted to smile at curves of her own shadow. She was Itsuka.

Hence, she hurdled herself towards him colliding with his back. "Don't go!" she shouted loud enough that the big burly man that had been pouring her a drink began to circle the small bar coming to free the monk of his burden.

Tenrai falling over his own feet, wanted to laugh. She was like a child with candy. Once he had gained his footing he turned to the distorted woman and was surprised to find small streams coming from her eyes. Was it that she was so warp in the head that she thought of him as a lover before he presented himself as one?

"It is okay," he spoke with the tone of a hero, a savor and she, his little wench. Wench, he laughed inside, dare not show it on his face. Bundles of fabric bunched in his hands as he wrapped her in his arms.

The gasp of nearby people did not go unheard. They were questioning his display of affection for the woman. To this Tenrai responded, "do we turn our backs on the miserable one and ignore their problem. Buddha would want us to help."

With the sense of a wise man, he squeezed her to him and guided wobbly steps from the bar and into the emptying streets. Night was coming.

Tenrai frowned to himself guiding the woman down the walkways into an small dark alley, just enough to get her head together. "Here," with gentle hands he released her allowing her to lean on a wall of bamboo.

Itsuka hiccupped and let out a small laugh. "You were brilliant." Her head starting to clear in the fresh air.

Taken a back by the woman, again only intrigued Tenrai's character. He smiled back at her and with a study left hand, he fondled the ofuda papers in his right sleeve. If she was a demon, she would not catch him unprepared.

Itsuka lifted herself balancing on her own two feet rather than the cool wall, that was much to hard for her skin. Jerking the combs from her head, she stared the monk in the face, hair falling to cradle her round face.

A handsome man he was. And a master at game play and she liked that more than the glint in his eye when he looked at her anticipating.

She smiled, mischievously and clapped her hands before her, her manicured nails catching his attention. "Brilliant," her smile turning into a luring laugh. "You were brilliant." Her eyes following the length of him, noticing his left arm huddled in his right sleeve. She knew enough to understand what he played with in his sleeve.

Tightening his grip on the thin strips of paper, he watched the very movement of the brow, the twitch in her smile, and the skin of her collar bone.

"Calm yourself, monk," she continued to laugh, throwing her head back in a mirth of laugher.

He signed, secretly hoping that she would not find anything else that he had done that funny. Her laugh made his skin crawl. She wasn't a demon, neither was she as drunk as the woman in the bar that he had so guided into the streets.

"I am no demon." Grabbing the trim of her kimono that laid so neatly on her shoulder, she tenderly reposition the fabric lower on her shoulder. After all the monk was handsome and he spoke with such certainty, something Itsuka was losing. "And I'm not as drunk as you think."

She wanted him to touch her, just like the others. He needed to make her feel wanted, loved if only for a moment. He would do for tonight. A man of status. A man of integrity that would have nothing more than the top picking of women and she was one of those women. He was tall, dark and stared at her with eyes that knew what they were doing.

Tenrai looked intently. In his mind, his grin stretched from one ear to the other and nothing could stop the moment. The streets were quite, near desolate. He could take her here and never see her again. She was that type of woman. She was something of a harlot and tonight that was what the city was about.

He watched her manicured nails slip into the collar of her kimono loosing it allowing it to fall from her shoulders. Her breast gazed at him, perked and round.

She could be beautiful, but she was not. As she striped herself in front of him, the beauty that sat in the bar dissipated. Even though her skin flowed like white milk from her chest to her stomach to her hips and so on.

Something was wrong with the look in her eyes, the way she pushed herself on him. However welcomed, it was unbecoming.

She was enchanting, no less and he found her ripe that night. So, he took her and in his hands she melted like no other woman and then she was gone.

_**-((()))-**_

Miyabi stared at the calligraphy brush in her hand. It took everything in her being to draw the straight lines that would make the characters that the man in front of her wanted. For her hand shook like the candle flame in the corner. The light cast foreboding shadows on his face and gave him a gilt in his eye that she had become familiar with.

She cringed inside. It was the same gilt in his eye that stared at her in the dark when she laid underneath him. She took a deep breath and slowly began tracing lengthy lines down rice paper. Each stroke with the tip of the brush made a scratching sound and it interrupted the silence that had been passing through the room for quite a long time even though there were servant all about. With one lift of his wrist, Yamato hushed them all.

Gekido stared from her lady's right side. Her breath in her throat. Infront of her, her finger intertwined like the threads of her servant yukata. Miyabi's calligraphy had been perfect and, yet before this man, this killer of all things, it faltered and he knew it.

Yamato smiled at his wife. The young flesh covered with soft powders and scented oils. She was beautiful. Her hair glisten black, brushing the nape of her neck and it was tantalizing. Delicate fingers wavered on the thin handle of light wood as it outlined small characters that only took him, but seconds to draw. Though, it should annoy a man of Yamato's temperament, he found it funny. She amused him beyond words. He shifted his weight on the bamboo mat. His armor clanging against itself and he saw her jump.

He signed loudly and he heard her servant's breath hesitate. He shifted his sights to her though she paid him no attention. Her eyes were so enthralled in the lady that he doubted that she knew he was in the room.

Gekido, he recalled her name. Such a lovely young woman. If it had not been so publicly, he would have ran his brutish hands through the everlasting lengths of hair on the woman's head. Her eyes shined like that of a child and the light scent of lilac came from her. He watched her silent movements through the palace and she was elegant, more so than Miyabi, more so than any other woman that he had met.

Had it been different circumstances, would he have chosen her over the childish Miyabi. At the time, he was not sure, but he knew that the faint light gracing her cheeks teased him.

He could only imagine the beauty of her tears and the lovely screams from her painted lips.

Casting his eyes back to his wife, he noticed the thinness of her stroke. It was not sufficient for a woman of his court, but he silenced himself and waited for her to complete the scroll.

His eyes wandered back to the woman that stared so admirably at the lady.

"Gekido," he spoke her name for the first time since she had come to his palace, a year and a half ago.

She, unlike the others, did not jump at the sound of his voice and he found her appealing. She only lifted her eyes to him with a steady glare. "Yes, my lord," she spoke with a quite calmness.

Was it anger? He smiled. He liked her.

"Get your lady a cup of tea," he beckoned her. Leaning over, placing his elbow on the floor, engulfing Miyabi in a small enclosure of his body.

Miyabi was terrified.

Gekido nodded. "Yes, my lord." With study steps and a bowed demeanor, she exited the room never turning her back to the man who ordered her.

Elegant, he gazed after her. Then back to the woman before him.

He was a wise man, regardless of how he chose to treat the next man and he could read her nervousness. "You shake like a tree, Miyabi," he noted so close to a whisper, she struggled to hear him.

Miyabi lowered her eyes away from the paper. "Forgive me, my lord," she forced from a close throat and grasped the brush tighter. She much preferred the tall stalk of a woman that had been her teacher before they were wed. Though, she left her many time with her hands blue and bruised, she did not have the same effect that the beast in front of her did. Now he was so close to her that she could feel his body heat as it emanated from his armor.

Would he take her here? Before of all these people? She swallowed a hard lump and began to pray that he wouldn't.

She couldn't look him in the eyes. She was to afraid to. He was to powerful of a man for her and she knew that, now more than she knew anything else. She had noticed his wondering eye. She never questioned it. Just like she never questioned the small foot steps that waited outside her door until the weight of her husband lifted from her and she could move again.

It was painstaking when she thought of the women that he considered concubines when she was his wife. Was it her immaturity that had her thinking this way? He was a lord, but did he love her at all. Would he ever love her the way she wanted him to?

How could he ever love a woman that shook every time he drew near her. This was signs of a child afraid of her father. No, Miyabi coached herself. He is your husband.

She could have cried, there in front of him. Gaining what resolve she had she slowly lifted her eyes from the fickle paper and looked into her husbands face.

Yamato drew back, even as she did it. It was not something that he was use to. For a moment, he drew a blank and discovered why he had chosen such a woman. There was something in her that he wanted and it was something that he had yet to obtain. He smiled at her and she only stared back at him with slightly parted lips that at that moment looked absolutely alluring.

The woman that had his mind early had been forgotten as he looked into the face of his young bride. He could so easily read her fear, yet she stared back at him, questioning his next move.

This young woman, young wife.

"Continue, Miyabi," he spoke with the same calmness that he had just before battle.

_**-((()))-**_

Itsuka watched from the corner of the room. She didn't like what was transpiring between the two lovers in the middle of the room. If she had stood beside the lady maybe it would have been her that he would have so gazed at .

The bubbling in her stomach was almost to much to take. She turned from them and continued her work in silence. The great room that they shared was in much need of cleaning and that was all that she could do.

That was all that she was worth to any of them. She could feel herself getting riled at the thought. She was worth more than that.

Miyabi was nothing. Nothing. The room was too quiet.

And she would also be NOTHING. To intimate.

She could learn NOTHING! The candlelight, to romantic.

She was a child. NOTHING! To perfect.

The shattering of glass awake her from her madness. She didn't know if she had slammed the tray or if it had merely slipped from her fingers, but glass was all about her feet. Lovely china pieces threatened to cut her if she moved.

The silence in the room was broken.

And that was all she wanted.

She gasped at her mistake. Her first instinct caused her to gazed across the room to the lord and his lady.

Yes, they both stared at her with curious looks, each asking a different question.

Miyabi wondered if she was okay in her work. The concern in her eye was understandable. It had been unbelievably loud in the echoing hall.

Yamato's right brow lifted, in question.

Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen the dishes high in the air before she had thrown them to the ground. It had been an act of rage. And he stared at her, until she turned her head in shame and still he continued to glare.

Peculiar girl.

"Was there some reason for that?" he questioned rising to his feet. In her rage, she had decided to destroy what was his. Inexcusable.

His footsteps were slow and study coming towards her.

Itsuka had quickly dropped to her knees, shards digging into her legs.

No, this was not how it was suppose to be. She couldn't be this way. Miyabi was the one, the childish one.

Her breath was panicked and she thought that she would die right there. The heaviness in her chest only increased when she felt his hands gripped the thick fabric of her sleeves pulling her to her feet to stand in front of him. Servants had started to stop their doings to watch.

"Do you not hear me girl!" his voice was booming and echoing in her head as she felt hot streams erupt down the round curves of her cheeks. He pulled her closer to him noticing the extra weight about her chest.

Was she Miyabi and Miyabi her? Was she really there?

She felt her body cringe in his hands, felt the ache in her heart. The room was spinning, like her 'bout with sake a few days ago. She watched the foul twist of her imaginary lover's lips, the anger that shown in his eyes. Her mouth was wide open and she couldn't utter a word. Not even sorry.

She saw his right hand rear back to give her a heavy blow to the face and all she could do was stare at him in pure fear. He was suppose to be her lover and he…

"My lord!"

It was Miyabi's voice that brought her back to reality and also seem to bring Yamato back. Or was it her hands that had wrapped around his right arm that pull back to deliver a discipline blow that had awaken him. Either way, both stood staring at Miyabi.

Her royal garments entangled in his. She stood a foot underneath him and yet she held his hand back with all her might. The little woman held her own against him.

"My lord please," she begged. Her eye staring at his stunned face. Her voice no longer the tiny thing that whispered.

Yamato stared down at her . His wife. She was surprising. He liked that.

Even the servants in the quarters, had stop to stare in awe at the young woman. Never had this happened before. This meager nothing stopped a lord.

"I'll take the punishment," she implored, pulling at the discipline arm.

It riled him that she stood before him and requested such a thing. Miyabi. The little Miyabi-chan. Did she think that she could stop a warrior like Yamato?

With prestige, he straightened himself dropping his hands from Itsuka, and she fell to her knees no longer feeling the stink of glass.

Miyabi gazed up at her husband. He looked reasonable in that moment, but so had he in the woods by her father's home, while a storm erupted in his head.

"Fine, Miyabi," he bowed his head to an honorable opponent that had for one minute defeated him. He turned in his steps his back facing the woman.

Miyabi prevailed for only a moment before she collide with an ironclad backhand. She couldn't feel the wood as it slid beneath her. Her back met the wall with a force that released the air from her lungs. The impact of her head against the wood made the room dance and the candlelight played games before her eyes. It took hours before she felt the pain in her face that Yamato's armor had left behind.

He had spun around so fast that the average human eye was to slow to follow. A demon they had called him. They knew nothing, he thought, taking a glimpse of his wife.

Not a sound escaped the throat of a single servant in that room, not even Gekido who stood in the door of the great room, a tea cup in her hands.

Miyabi couldn't see Yamato as he walked with calm steps to her, for the room spun like the small spinning tops her mother gave her as a child. He stopped at her feet and looked as a tower in front of the small woman.

"You are my wife," he spoke with an even tone. His words were like a dream. "As the servants do, learn your place woman."

She wasn't sure when he left the room. Nor was she aware of when she had been laid in her bed to rest.

_**-((()))-**_

Itsuka waited by Miyabi's bedside. She had been asleep for a while now.

"You are childish," she had whispered. "As the servants do, learn your place." For the fifth time she repeated his words. She delighted in them so much.

Her feet danced over the elegantly placed bamboo flooring. She ran her hand over jeweled furniture, touched gold barrettes and stared in clean mirrors. The small patter of her feet echoed and she smiled.

Though, she was grateful for the stand that Miyabi had taken for her, it would have never been if Miyabi had knew her place in the beginning.

Itsuka felt as though she had shown herself to the naïve Miyabi time and again, and, yet this ignorant woman still toyed around with this notion of friendship. There was no friendship to be had with Itsuka, and she was well aware of that. So close she was to her goal and Miyabi was in the way. She could not stand the thought of Miyabi becoming adequate in a world that she was not wanted.

Lines of perfume decorated the golden chest in the corner and Itsuka fell to her knees in front of it. She stared at the pretty little bottles decorated with jewels and lines of gold. She grabbed the smallest one in the farthest corner and stuck it in her sleeve.

It would never be missed amongst the mess that had been given to her.

She turned slowly back to Miyabi, rising to her feet.

She stared at her pretty little face bruised about the left cheek by the touch of iron and felt nothing.

This world was to become Itsuka's and there was nothing that anyone could do to stop her.

It's my turn, Miyabi, she thought pushing the small bottle further up her ornamented sleeve. "It's my turn."

_**Disclaimer**_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi. Thus, I do own some of the characters placed in this story._

_**Thank You for Reading**._


	12. Chapter 12

_**Jade**_

_**-((()))-**_

There were roughly twenty beds in a row, lined perfectly along the wooden boards of the floor. In the morning, they would be rolled up and neatly arranged against the walls out of the way of traffic. For now, they were aligned and messily wrapped around cold bodies that had seen better days.

One side of the room was darker than the other and whispers could be heard there late in the night. Often lovers amongst the servants would make their way to that far corner when everyone was thought to be asleep and not be seen for hours; however some were heard more than they intended.

The door to that same room stayed shut at night, not to disturb the lord and his lady. Although, the room was the furthest from their quarters as it could be, it made no difference.

Small lanterns lined the walls and the glow from each wick lit the room enough that it was never pitch black except for the middle of the night. There was nothing necessarily decorative about this place only the essentials were present; robes that lay splayed out over the tops of the small mats; small makeup pouches in close proximity to the owner's beds; pails of water that lined the far walls in the room, waiting for the crack of dawn.

Itsuka's curious eyes had scanned the room numerous times, discovering what each servant hid underneath their mat late in the night. She rarely slept because of this. She had seen the small girl in the front corner travel to the back dark corner with the boy from the fifth bed on the far right. She would watch them from time to time. They were not hidden as well as they thought and she'd laugh, only because she had seen the looks that the boy offered her earlier that day.

She had wink at him and gave a coy little smile. He was a handsome boy and his naïve ways lent an easy feeling about him that she liked.

She had also seen the girl in the first mat travel to the corner with the girl from the tenth mat and she had watched them as well. They intrigued her interest, however it was also something of an abomination to the man that first mat girl had professed her love to.

She also knew that underneath the third mat was a small pouch of goodies that were stolen out of the kitchen and she had wondered if she could get away with something like that, as well. She didn't try it, however. There was also a secret bag under the thirteenth mat that held lipsticks and powders, along with a sharpened piece of black coal.

When the first rays of sun broke through the small window, to high to reach, and the servants had begun to file out into the bath house, Itsuka had also noticed that the small pouches disappeared into the folds of silk woven sheets. Then, they were left for the day.

Soon after the start of colder days, when the sleeves of her kimonos were thicker and heavier for the weather, Itsuka stepped into an empty room. The mats had been rolled up for the day and the floor swept by bamboo brooms.

She stepped slowly out of her sandals, not taking the time to place them against the door frame as was proper. Socked feet tiptoed over aged wood, not to make a sound.

They came to a stop in front of that thirteenth mat, neatly rolled around the special pouch. Taking a moment for cautious hesitation, she turned to peer at the door to make sure that she was not being followed.

The corners of her mouth turned upward and the small glint in her eye turned hazy as she approached her prey.

Her chubby little fingers fumbled at first. The tie on the damn thing was worst than any of the others that she had broken into. Soon enough though, the intertwined thread began to loosen. Determination forced her to tug even harder. Before long she started at the purple cloth used to cover the owner. The smell of body order it produced from night sweats, turned her nose, but it did not stop her from her task. Fingers grope through the material, until thin wood cool to the touch brushed against her skin.

The break in between her smiling lips meant that she had found what she was looking for. Loosing the careful precision that she had previously, she yanked the small wooden case from between the covers and lifted it to gaze at her prize that could be hidden in the palm of her hands

Small, rounded, and an ugly color brow, it didn't look to significant as she held it up to get a better look. On baited breath, she raised the covering wood, watching it pivoted on small brass hinges and fixed her eyes on the riches inside.

In the sunlight, it twinkled. Its red color seemed even brighter in her fingers and she could image it on her lips. Then, she could image Yamato's lips upon hers'. The only thing between them would be the red lipstick that her fingers held.

The triumphant feeling made her heart swell with satisfaction and she hugged the small case close to her chest. In the middle of the room, she twirled, streams of sunlight playing with the threads about her head. The smile on her lips was enduring. In her mind, Yamato watched her and soon enough he would dance with her. That was how alluring she would be.

He would want her. Her scent would be captivating, forcing him to turn his head in her direction. The ruby color that would soon grace her lips would tease him.

She laughed out loud. The twittering sound echoed off the empty walls bouncing from the floor to the ceiling and into her ears. She liked the sound.

"What's so funny girl?"

The voice was familiar. It brought a frown to the corners of her mouth, and a grunt to her breath. She stopped mid-spin and nearly tumbled over her own feet.

Before she lifted her eyes to see the face in front of her, she took a deep breath and dismissed the glint in her eyes that thoughts of Lord Yamato had provoked. Meeting her glaze with all the humbleness of a woman with nothing to lose, she was unflinching.

The woman that stood before her had her hands placed on her hips. Her feet planted on the ground with the toe on the left one tapping rather loudly. She wore a face that had wrinkled a bit about the eyes. Her nose had not yet stopped growing and lay widely in the middle of a flat face. But on her thin lips, the same color ruby that Itsuka sheltered in her closed fist.

"What's so funny?" Words spilled out through that ruby color.

Itsuka jarred her lips together to keep from laughing out right. "Nothing," she spat out at the woman, harsher than she meant to, but the laugh tickled her throat.

"Well, then-" she took a step closer to the young girl.

The purple coverlet in bunches behind Itsuka's feet, she should have been nervous, maybe shaking in her winter boots, but the lady met her challenging stare with one of her own and refused to move her eyes. After all, the first one to break the stare would be the weaker.

Itsuka knew what she was doing. She thought nothing of it because it was the women's pride that she'd missed the coverlet that belonged to her.

Had she dared to look away from Itsuka's challenging stare, she would have seen it?

The women turned, abruptly with a condescending laugh as dry as the chilly air around them. She tried of her game.

With the same precision that she used when she made her way through her duties, Itsuka kicked the purple fabric hard enough to intertwine it into the others lined along the wall. Still a mess, she tapped the top of it with the tip of her toe and soon it had begun to look as the others.

The woman, never the smart one, did nothing untoward her normal character as she continued towards the door and Itsuka let out a gush of anxious breath.

"I assume you are ready to continue your work." She turned once again to face the girl that she considered a nothing, a nobody.

Itsuka's smile did not fade although she followed the woman's led and made her way into the open sun to begin another day of service. Her feet touched the cobblestone walkway as she tucked the small wooden rubies into the heavy sleeve right beside the small bottle of perfume.

_**-((()))-**_

Her fingertips itched. The day was moving at the pace of a snail and there were things that she could think about in the cover of night that made those nights in that damp room worth it.

Itsuka stared across the way at the narrow waisted girl. Unlike Itsuka, she was unique and her hair glowed under the sun like the netting from a spider's web. She glided over the cobblestone like the wheels of the carriage that they had taken to get here. Her eyes were glued to the fabric that she held.

Folding. Yes, she had always been good at that.

Itsuka rolled her eyes and with a sway of her hips she dismissed Gekido. A carefully practiced posture moved her across the dry grass to the doors of the store house. The basket in her hands had stared to leak small grains of rice all about her feet.

Kami, how she hated the feel of grainy things.

She adjusted her left breast against the basket, it was starting to hurt, and took notice of the brown eyes that winked at her from across the yard. The guy from the fifth mat. She smiled at him and almost involuntarily heaved her chest up and her butt out.

Afterwards, she took a quick look around her.

Unfortunately, his girlfriend wasn't in hindsight. She knew that he wouldn't dare glance her way if the skinny girl was around. Still, Itsuka would have loved to see the look on her face if she ever found out how her boyfriend really felt. After all, she was always one for a good drama.

Disappearing through the open door of the small store house, she dumped the rice from the ragged weaved basket onto the pile about her feet. She lifted her eyes to gaze at the old building. The wooden walls had small indentions to emphasis its' age. A few grains of rice stuck into these holes making them look as though maggots had infested the place.

She shook that thought away because she was now free for the rest of the day.

And sure, there were sneers and jeers, from servants that were still racked with duties. They watched as she passed by. Her hips sashayed to a rhythm that only she could hear and it felt good to be done early, even before the boss herself had finished. It would look good on her, especially if word got to Lord Yamato.

Who wouldn't want a reliable and hardworking servant?

Itsuka laughed outright since no one else knew, nor did they suspect. They'd never find the small grains of rice she'd buried in the yard, by the bucket load. Nor would they discover the dirty sheets that she had tucked under the stairs of the out house. She'd get them when she returned from the bar.

And burn them, her laughed deepened. It was simple because that was just what she would do, just like before. They wouldn't miss them.

Her feet happily made trails through the cobblestone path that led to town. The woven rice basket still in her hands. With a curl of her top lip, she rolled her eyes and tossed it with no knowledge of where it would land and what's more. It was a rice basket. Who cared?

From her lips, she had started to hum the melody of an old nurse rhyme that had been somewhere in her past. With the meticulous movements that came from practice, she ripped the black band from her hair, allowing it to fall decoratively over her shoulders.

It had grown a bit, sheltering the round contours of her face. She had become pretty, yet she was not captivating. She was average. Though to herself, she was gorgeous. Running fingers through her hair, she arranged the strains over her head so that her right eye only peeked from underneath a thick fringe of curls. She'd made them from long stalks of bamboo that she'd wrapped the strains the night before.

She thought that it was sexy. So did the guys who had winked at her in the streets and smiled, knowingly.

Stopping by the walkway of cobblestones, she pulled the small wooden case of that lovely red ruby color from her sleeve. Her eyes glowed at the expectations that she could imagine.

The attention thrilled her. She rocked on her heels and couldn't help the squeal that escaped her throat.

Anticipating fingers reached into the opposite sleeve and pulled out the small mirror she had taken from the six mat two days ago. She blew at the small threads that had attached themselves to the mirror's frame. Once the red color had begun to absorb on her lips, she could feel her heart jump.

Afterwards, all she could do was stare at the girl in the mirror. For she had aged. She looked like a woman.

No, it was the woman that she was, Itsuka smiled exuberantly. If she had any thoughts of giving the small red rubies back to the owner, she had forgotten them as she turned to race through the street to the run down old bar that she had started to frequent. Maybe that monk would be there. Then again maybe not.

She had thought about him, a few times. Wanting him to return, she had been back there in hopes of finding him.

In the meantime, she had met Okii, or that was what she called him anyway. His real name was no more important to her than those white sheets beneath the stairs.

Okii was Okii for a reason. He was a big man. His hand could nearly wrap completely around Itsuka thigh. She learned early from dealing with him that he was a little bit on the slow upkeep. It only bothered her for a moment until he started to pull shiny little coins from his pockets. With him, Itsuka would leave the bar with a full belly, an extra bottle of the most expensive sake they carried, and a gem or two that he thought she would like. He was usually right.

Once he handed them to her, she'd race to the other side of town. A small pawn shop was out there. The old man who owned the place would take one look at the shiny glass and offer her more money than she anticipated. She'd walk out stuffing the lining of her kimono with coins similar to Okii's.

After all, what would she need a jewel for? From Okii no less.

His attempts. They were flattering, but he wasn't what she wanted. Settlement was not something that Itsuka considered doing. He had all the lovers potential, however he lacked were it mattered most.

Even as she stepped on the front steps of the bar, she heard his unnecessarily loud laughter on the other side of the rickety sliding door.

On her lips a frown, as she circled down the alley beside the building to make sure that she was in rare form. She loosened the obi around her waist allowing the top of her kimono to slip open about her chest. The perfume that she had taken from Miyabi had been a big hit with the men of her previous bars and she had been ecstatic. So, she sprayed a little more this time around the contours of her neck.

It only took a moment for Itsuka to approve of her own look in the small oval mirror.

When she walked into the bar, a minute later, the looks that she garnished made her smile and it wasn't long before the man at the corner table in the back of the bar noticed her.

His jovial laughter made her smile, or so he thought. Either way she made her way over to him, with a smile that illuminated her round face. Each step she took was calculated to make her legs longer and her body more appealing.

Itsuka shied herself away for effect only as she listened to the click of her shoes. It was better than the sound of his laughter. Around him women of all sizes engaged in whatever he said as though honey dripped from his lips.

However, when Itsuka approached the man, his eyes brightened even more and his laughter was caught somewhere in his throat.

To him, the feelings were there. She made him smile, his heart stopped, and nothing mattered as much. The only honey that dripped was from the sway in her hips; the curve of her smile. The pout in her lips that she forced, he knew that it was not natural, but it was cute on her. Words spoken from her warmed his heart.

He never noticed the stiffness when he touched her. She gave him her company and he appreciated that. The furthest that they had gotten was a kiss and even then she blushed and raced away from him. He thought it was enduring.

Itsuka placed herself in an empty seat that was opposite him. From in between a narrow slit of curls over her right eyes, she gazed at him. He wasn't good looking, so she could only expect so much. His eyebrows were incredibly thick today and his hair could be trimmed a little neater.

She sighed. Shifting in her seat, she prayed that her feelings had not shown on her face, for Okii stared directly at her.

She shivered.

His extra round nose twitched.

He leaned over mumbling words from oversized lips to the woman next to him. From the heavy discontent that had stared to take over the woman's charming features, he had said something vastly disappointing and she rose from her seat.

"Itsuka," his voice belled out. "Come here, girl."

Girl, she thought as she rose from her place. Insulted, Itsuka's smile tightened just enough that only she knew it. How dare he?

The closer she got to him, the sloppier he became. His mouth was to wide and open. His face was gangly and his eyes rounded by fat made her smile falter. His dark kimono was not flattering on him at all, not to mention, he held the odor of sake as though it had spilt on him.

On her face Itsuka forced her smile to widen as her heart sank.

A far cry from Yamato? She whined within herself, even as she sunk down next to him. One deep breath of his sake odor and her stomach turned.

He smiled at her with crooked teeth. With all the boldness of a lover, he slipped a meaty hand of fat fingers on her thigh.

Itsuka shifted her position so that she seemed more open to his advances, yet she couldn't help her gaze falling terrified as she looked down at his hand. It wasn't meant to go that far with him.

Her gazed moved up to his face, but he wasn't looking at her any longer and she was glad that he wasn't. The laughter was back in his throat as he engaged the other women around him in conversation that she had no real interest in.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to a semblance of tranquility. He was after all a means to help her. With that in mind, she leaned into him and beamed. Slowly, she allowed her head to lay on the flabbier side of his chest. The women were appalled. She could tell.

It wasn't very lady-like to garner so much in public, but she didn't care about that when it came to what she wanted and right now Okii was the only one supplying.

She shifted her head to turn away from glaring eyes. Brown, and hazel; the colors that they were, didn't matter. The idiot that she laid against didn't bat an eyelash. The breath in her lungs let out in a heavy gush as she pressed herself further into him.

She could feel the soft poke that came through his sheer fabric. It stuck her right in the ear. She didn't move right away, because it didn't hurt. She had felt it before and almost grimaced openly when she realized that it was his nipple.

He was all man, though. She had felt it, albeit mistakenly, as her hand brushed down upon her last visit. However, the man was big and fat gather in the more objectionable places. Thus he had breast and she wondered if they were as big as hers'.

Never the one to hinder her opportunities, she didn't mention it. Even when he had grabbed her in that unwelcome kiss.

Asshole, she thought gazing at him with an admirable smile on her lips. A game, she told herself. And she was winning. She always won.

_**-((()))-**_

It never failed.

Itsuka flipped the green gem in her hand. Flat like a pebble and smooth as the skin of a baby, she was sure that she had something on her hands. She fixed the sleeve of her kimono, making sure that it held all of her valuables.

Sure enough, Okii had gems in his pockets. She had stepped outside with him as he'd asked her to. Without a word, he had kissed her. His lips engulfing half of her face and for a moment she couldn't breath because they were sloppily over her nostrils. He'd reached one of his fleshy hands into the top of her kimono and wrapped it around her breast and she realized just how clammy his skin was.

All for this fucking jewel, she thought, shaking the waves of nuasea from her gut.

_She'd let him touch her, kiss her, and even place her nipple in his mouth and he sucked like a child. Pushing him away finally when her nipple became sore between his lips. All the while her stomach lurching at the redundant odor coming off of him._

"Couldn't you just give me the fucking jewel?" she spoke out loud to no one. "Asshole."

He had made her sick.

When she pushed him off of her, she told him that she must leave.

"_I'll be late," she gasped gripping the front of his kimono with the lie of being his lover. "I must get home before it is found out that I left."_

She fled from the bar and ran as far from him as she possibly could. Right after he had place the jewel in her hands, of course.

Jade…..

That's what he called it. She took it and stood in front of him with tears in her eyes.

"_Thank you," she gazed at it. The smell of sake on his breath brought even more water to her eyes and she didn't know how much more she could take._

She allowed one more kiss before she had no choice, but to get away from him.

It was made up in her mind that she would not return. She couldn't allow his hands on her again.

Her looks had garnered the sights of a few people on the streets. She didn't care enough to stop and fix herself. She wasn't interested in them in the least. She made her way back up the cobblestone path. Today, she would have not time to make it to the pawn shop and back before she would be on duty for supper.

The red lipstick was slightly smudged on her lips, and the smell that he had left her with was starting to fade away, leaving the odor of Miyabi's perfume on her skin. She had remove her tatami sandals and dared walk barefoot through the cobblestone path that she knew to be clear this time of day.

However, it was click of boots on the stones that caught her attention. Her head jolted up at the sound.

A man's voice. If she had not been lost in her own thoughts, she would have recognized who it was and hidden herself as well. She was very unsuitable to stand before him. He was to close, for before she could gather enough of herself he stood before her.

When she dared look up at him, he wore a contemplative scowl that folded the scar on his cheek.

She bowed lowly and moved to the side in hopes that he wouldn't recognize that she was Miyabi's servant.

But Lord Yamato was everything and vigilant was one of those things. So it was no surprise that his form stopped in front of her, and his eyes lingered. He was questioning, she knew even as she stared at the iron boots he wore.

Yamato would have laugh, would have chastised the woman until she felt ashamed of her actions. However, the view of her scandalous clad form was enough to entice him. She had smooth skin that stretch over the swell of her breast. Minutes seemed to past as his sights roamed down the outlines that her body made, taking mental notes of well contoured features. Even the skin of her leg showed creamy as the skin about her wrist. The frazzle of curls about her head were almost mangled, but suited her look. He liked them.

Stunned that she would be caught like this, he enjoyed the look of her.

Where had she been coming from with lips that color?

Looking for words, he finally noticed the light green stone intertwined in her fingers and asked, "What do you hold woman?" A demand. He knew no other way to speak to the help.

A little offset by the first words spoken between them, Itsuka tightened her grip on the rock as though just realizing it was between her fingers. Forcing her heart to calm and the color in her cheeks to dim, she lifted her head slightly in response.

"I am told that it is jade, my lord," her voice was horse from the whopping tongue that had invaded her mouth moments ago. Or maybe is was the breath that refused to come.

"Hmm," was his answer, deep and spine tingling. Before she had a chance to react the green jewel played between the fingers of Yamato.

Like the cunning man that he was, he had ripped it from her fingers.

More importantly, he had brushed her hand against his.

"Where did you get such an impressive gem, girl?" he asked. His voice distance as he lifted the rock towards the sky glaring at it. The sun bounced from on end of the rock to the other casting a greenish hue to Yamato's face and an unnatural glint in his eye.

She stole a glance of him and felt almost ashamed for it. He was very well-groomed today and for that he was handsome. She glowed like a child, so close to him.

"What is your name?" he cut his eyes down to her without the movement of his head. Miyabi had told him before, but he didn't think it was significant. So, he hadn't paid her any attention. Staring at the gem still high in the air, he was starting to reconsider.

Her palms were sweaty.

"Itsuka," she rasped out.

A smirk crossed his lips. She liked it.

Reaching some unspoken resolve, he wrapped his slim fingers around the smooth rock and turned to continue on his path. The rock clearly his.

No words escaped her moving mouth to stunned by his presences. So, she stood there, watching the black yukata that he wore fan out behind him. Her thoughts to slow to realize that her gem was indeed gone.

"It is payment," he called back to her. "For the broken dishes, Itsuka."

She gasped at his amazing recollection, opening the fist that had once held the precious stone. Her sights dazed as she looked down at her empty hand.

Was she memorable to him?

She would have smiled had her mouth been able to move from its open position. She opted instead to watched his back long after he had disappeared down the cobblestone.

She had heard her name on his lips, brushed his hand, and had seen for herself the fold in his skin when he smiled. For now that was enough.

So, she smiled when her feet turned towards the palace. Each step was reminisces of what had just taken place and she was tickled pink.

She had bared the tops of her breast. Her legs could be seen piercing through the thick kimono and her feet were bare upon the cool stones, but she didn't care.

Lord Yamato knew her.

_**-((()))-**_

_**Words That May Help**_

_Okii- big___

_**Disclaimer**_

_I do not own any characters in the anime series Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi. Thus, I do own some of the characters placed in this story._

_**Thanks For Reading**_


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